LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 






014 430 126 2 # 






?97 



SHE STOOPS TO CONOUER 



A COMEDY IN FIl^E ACTS 



OLIVER GOLDSMITH 



^d from the prompt-copy of the late William Warren, and 
exhibiting all the usual cuts and stage business 



BOSTON 




^i^^^^^M^.,J^s>^ 



:> 



1897 



;OPf, 



CHARACTERS, 



V Charles Marlow 

Y iNG Marlow . . 
S ) IRE Hardcastle 
(J. ORGE Hastings . 

r MY^LUMPKIN . . 
.L'.iGORY .... 
Rl'GER 

Dick 

Thomas 

Si :ngo, La7idlord of the 

'* Three Pigeons^'. 

Slang 

Jimmy 

\\ vT Muggins . . 
T -M Twist . . . 
Aminadab .... 
Mrs. Hardcastle. 
K VTE Hardcastle 
Constance Neville 

Maid 

Barmaids, Pot-boys, 

xvd Postillion. 

Sir Charles Marlow 
Young Marlow. . 
Squire Hardcastle 
George Hastings . 
Tony Lumpkin • . 
iggory .... 



Landlord of 
Pigeons " 



UGGINS . . 
wist . . . 

I \DAB .... 

Hardcastle . 

, Hardcastle 

-tance Neville 

D 

maids, Pot-boys, and Pos- 
llion. 



First Production 
Covetit Garde7i, 

London, 
Mar. 15, 1773. 

Lee Lewes. 
Edward Shuter. 
Du Bellamy. 
John Quick. 



First New York 
Production, 
Aug. 2, 1773. 

Owen ]\Iorris. 
John Henry. 
Mr. Goodman. 
Mr. Byerly. 
Lewis Hailam. 
]Mr. Hughes. 



57273 



Mrs. Green. Mrs. Owen Morris. 

Mrs. Bulkeley. Mrs. Hailam. 
Mrs. Kniveton. Miss Storer. 



Brooklyn, N.V., 
February, 1896. 

. T. L. Coleman. 

. Robert Taber. 

. William F. Owen. 

. Henry Doughty. 

. Edmund Lawrence. 

.* Dodson Mitchell. 

. Frederick Murphy. 

. James T. Barton. 

. T. L. Cartwright. 
the 

. Edward L. Stuart. 



George Marion. 

Arthur B. Price. 

John Mitchell. 

Edward Howard. 

Mrs. Sol Smith. 

Julia Marlowe Taber (isttime). 

Eugenia Woodward. 

Eda Aberle. 



Boston Museum, 
Sept. 12, 1867. 

C. L. Farwell. 
L. R. She well. 
Robt. F. McClannin. 
Harry B. Hudson. 
William Warren. 
J. H. Ring. 
C. W. Hayes. 

Mr. Pierce. 

Walter Kelly. 
F. Edwards. 
A. de Warne. 
J. R. Pitman. 
James Burrows. 

Mrs. J. R. Vincent. 
Annie Clarke (ist time). 
Mrs. T. M. Hunter. 
Carrie Giddis. 

lVallack's,N.Y., 
Feb. 25, 1876. 
J. W. Shaj in. 
Lester Wa ck. 
John Gilbert. 
Charles A. Stevenson. 
Harry Becket. 
W. J. Leonard. 
J. Curran. 
Harry Josephs. 



E. M. Holland. 

F. Morgan. 

C. E. Edward 

Mrne. Po.iisi. 
Ada Dyris. 
lone Burke. 
Ethel Thornton. 



M. 



The action of the play is confined to one evening. 




Copyright, 1897, by Walter H. Baker & Co. 

All rights reserved. 

Notice. — This arrangement of " She Stoops to Conquer," together with the business 
" .. -J, ha.s been duly protected by copyright, and <-qnrifit be reprinted without riermis- 
'*..£ the publishers. Periormancef.ee. 



INTRODUCTION 



When ambitious playmakers are looking for proofs that mana- 
gers are not infallible in their judgments of manuscript plays, Oliver 
Goldsmith's " She Stoops to Conquer" always comes to mind. Its 
author had already had one comedy produced when he oifered this 
play to Colman, then manager of Covent Garden, London, who re- 
fused it twice, and finally only consented to put it into rehearsal 
because he could not resist the arguments of that rnaster of cham- 
pions, Dr. Samuel Johnson, who, aided by Bishop White, pleaded 
success-'^tdly for at least a fair hearing for the play. But though 
Colma'u consented to lend his stage for that purpose, he was not 
convinced, and up to the end of the first performance his opinion 
of the play was held by the actors. To them tlie chances of its 
failure seemed so certain, that the popular leading man, "Gentle- 
man" Smith, as he was called, — who was the original Charles Sur- 
face, — declined to play Young Marlow, declaring the rdle " most 
ungenteel ; " and Henry Woodward, who was one of the best come- 
of his time, followed suit by refusing to play Tony Lumpkin. 

/V^hat the fate of " She Stoops to Conquer" would have been 
without the aid of Dr. Johnson it is too difficult to decide. But 
those who are interested in the methods by which plays were as- 
sured a certainty of success in those days will find a full description 
of the first night of this play in Richard Cumberland's " Memoirs." 
Cumberland was one of the party, including Goldsmith, Sir Joshua 
Reynolds, Caleb Whitefoord,and Fitzherbert, that on Mar. 15, 1773, 
sat down to an early dinner at the Shakespere Tavern, London, 
with Dr. Johnson in his most victorious spirit at the head of the 
table, and who marched afterward to Covent Garden to applaud 
" She Stoops to Conquer," led by Johnson himself from the front 
of a box. The play was a success, although once or twice the 
claque lost its head, and seemed as likely to swamp as to float it. 
The author did not venture into the theatre on that memorable first 
night until his friends sent for him just before the fifth act went on, 

3 



4 INTRODUCTION. 

and when the fate of the play was assured. He then ventured to 
say to the still agitated Colman that he was afraid one joke put into 
the mouth of Tony Lumpkin might not be relished. "Damn it, 
Doctor," replied Colman, "don't be terrified at a squib; why, we 
have been sitting for two hours on a barrel of gunpowder!" That 
remark so hurt Goldsmith's pride that all friendly feeling between 
him and the manager ended then and there. 

The defection of Smith and Woodward gave two actors, after- 
ward well known in London, their first great opportunities, — Lee 
Lewes, who created Young Marlow, and John Quick — known as 
" Little Quick " — who was the first Tony Lumpkin. 

Of its very first production in America one cannot be quite cer- 
tain. It was probably at the John Street Theatre, New York, Aug. 
2, 1773. That was in the fifth season of the theatre, and Hallam 
and Henry, the first firm of New York managers, were both in the 
cast. 

In Boston " She Stoops to Conquer" has been less seldom given 
than most of the old comedies. Among tlie most successful of the 
Boston Kate Hardcastles were Miss McBride, who made her (Ubut 
here in the part Sept. 16, 1826; Miss Vincent, Miss Annie Clarke, 
Miss May Waldron (Mrs. Stuart Robson), and Julia Marlowe 
Taber. The very best Tony Lumpkin was that of William War- 
ren, first played at the Museum during his first season there, — 1847- 
1848, — and not yet equalled by the few players who have tried it. 

In the present edition is printed for the first time all the stage 
business that has become incorporated into the piece in one hun- 
dred and twenty-three years, and was as well known to old actors 
and managers as the text itself, although up to date it has only 
been preserved in the traditions of players and the prompt-books of 

old theatres. 

M. A. 

Boston, June, 1897. 



INTKODUCTION. 



PROPERTIES. 

ACT I. Scene I. — Hand-bell on Prompter's desk. Whip for Tony. 
Scene II. — Whips for Marlow, Hastings, and Postillion. 

Ale-mugs in bar. Pipes, punch-bowl, and lighted candles 

on table. 
ACT II. Bell to ring in L. U. E. Lighted candles, L. u. E. Punch 

tankard, L. 2 E. Bill of fare, L. 2 E. Fan and shawl for 

Miss Hardcastle. Apple in Tony's pocket and whip for 

Tony. 
ACT III. Casket, r. U.E. ; string and cup and ball for Tony. Bunch 

of big keys, L. 2 E. for Miss Hardcastle. 
ACT IV. Bunch of keys for Miss Hardcastle. Broom and letter, L. 2 E. 

for Diggory. 
ACT V. Scene I. — Whip for Tony. Cane for Hardcastle. 



COSTUMES. 

Sir Charles Marlow. — Gentleman's old-fashioned blue suit, camlet 
fly, and cocked hat. 

Hardcastle. — Old-fashioned camlet suit, cocked hat, and scarlet 
roquelaire. 

Young Marlow. — First dress : Dark green coat, white waistcoat, 
pantaloons, and black riding-boots. This dress is worn in Act I., Scene 
II., and in Act II. For Act III. the boots are removed, and buckled 
shoes worn ; and for Act IV. full evening dress, ruffled shirt, and sword 
are assumed. 

Hastings. — Dress similar to Marlow, though plainer in both cut and 
color. 

Tony Lumpkin. — Scarlet jacket, flowered silk waistcoat, buff breeches. 

Stingo. — Country coat, red waistcoat, blue apron, and blue stockings. 

Diggory. — White country coat, flowered waistcoat, buff breeches. 

Mrs. Hardcastle. — First dress: Brocade sack and petticoat. Sec- 
ond dress : Brown stuff petticoat, with mud on it, and a small black cloak 
and huge green calash. 

Miss Hardcastle. — First dress: Smart, fashionably made brocade, 
elaborately trimmed with lace, and of Watteau style. Second dress : In 
Act II. a bonnet and lace scarf are added to this. Act HI., pretty print 
gown with ribbon-trimmed apron and white cap, which is worn during the 
balance of the play. 

Miss Neville. — Blue satin body, and leno petticoat trimmed with 
blue satin. 



SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER. 



ACT I. 
Scene I. — A chamber in an old-fashioned house, Jirst grooves. 
Enter Mr. Hakdca^t'lEj followed by Mrs. Hardcastle, r. i e. 

Mrs. H. (r.). I vow, Mr. Hardcastle, you're very par- 
ticular. Is there a creature in the whole country but our- 
selves, that does not take a trip to town now and then to 
rub off the rust a little .? There's the two Miss Hoggs 
and our neighbor, Mrs. Grigsby, go to take a month's polish- 
ing every winter. 

Hard. (l.). Ay, and bring back vanity and affectation 
to last them a whole year. I wonder why London cannot 
keep its own fools at home. In my time, the follies of the 
town crept slowly among us, but nov/ they travel faster 
than a stage-coach. Its fopperies come down, not only as 
inside passengers, but in the very basket. 

Mrs. H. Ay, your times were fine times, indeed ; you 
have been telling us of them for many a long year. Here 
we live in an old rumbling mansion that looks for all the 
world like an inn, but that we never see company. Our 
best visitors are old Mrs. Oddfish, the curate's wife, and 
little Cripplegate, the lame dancing-master ; and all our 
entertainment your old stories of Prince Eugene and the 
Duke of Marlborough. I hate such old-fashioned trumpery. 

Hard. And I love everything that's old; old friends, old 
times, old manners, old books, old wine ; and, I believe, 
Dorothy {taking her hand), you'll own I have been pretty 
fond of an old wife. 

Mrs. H. Lord, Mr. Hardcastle, you're clever at your 
Dorothy's and your old wife's. You may be a Darby, but 
I'll be no Joan, I promise you. I'm not so old as you'd 
make me by more than one good year. Add twenty to 
twenty, and make money of that. 



8 SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER. 

Hard. Let me see — twenty added to twenty makes just 
fifty and seven. 

Mrs. H. It's false, Mr. Hardcastle ; I was but twenty 
when I had Tony by Mr. Lumpkin, my first husband ; and 
he's not come to years of discretion yet. 

Hard. Nor ever will, I dare answer for him. Ay, you 
have taught him finely. 

Mrs. H. No matter, Tony Lumpkin has a good fortune. 
My son is not to live by his learning. I don't think a boy 
wants much learning to spend fifteen hundred a year. 

Hard. Learning, quotha ! a mere composition of tricks 
and mischief. 

Mrs. H. Humor, my dear; nothing but humor. Come, 
Mr. Hardcastle, you must allow the boy a little humor. 

Hard. I'd sooner allow him a horsepond ! If burning 
the footmen's shoes, frightening the maids, worrying the 
kittens, be humor, he has it. It was but yesterday he fas- 
tened my wig to the back of my chair, and when I went 
to make a bow, I popped my bald head into Mrs. Frizzle's 
face. 

Mrs. H. And am I to blame ? The poor boy was 
always too sickly to do any good. A school would be his 
death. When he comes to be a little stronger, who knows 
what a year or two's Latin may do for him ? 

Hard. Latin for him ! A cat and a fiddle ! No, no ; 
the alehouse and the stable are the only schools he'll ever 
go to. 

Mrs. H. Well, we must not snub the poor boy now, for 
I believe we sha'n't have him long among us. Anybody who 
looks in his face can see he's consumptive. 

Hard. Ay, if growing too fat be one of the symptoms. 

Mrs. H. He coughs sometimes. 

Hard. Yes, when his liquor goes the wrong way. 

Mrs. H. I'm actually afraid of his lungs. 

Hard. (c). And truly, so am I ; for he sometimes whoops 
like a speaking trumpet. (Tony, Jialloomg behind the scenes 
at R. I E.) Oh, there he goes — a very consumptive figure, 
truly ! . 

Enter Tony, r. i e., crossing the stage to l. i e. 

Mrs. H. {crosses to l. to Tony). Tony, where are you 
going, my charmer ? Won't you give papa and I a little of 
your company, lovee ? 



SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER. 9 

Tony. I'm in haste, mother ; I can't stay. 

Mrs. H. You sha'n't venture out this raw evening, my 
dear. You look most shocking — 

Tony. I can't stay, I tell you. The " Three Pigeons " 
expects me down every moment. There's some fun going 
forward. 

Hard. Ay ; the alehouse, the old place. I thought so. 

Mrs. H. a low, paltry set of fellows ! 

Tony. Not so low, neither. There's Dick Muggins the 
exciseman. Jack Slang the horse-doctor, little Aminadab that 
grinds the music-box, and Tom Twist that spins the pewter 
platter. 

Mrs. H. Pray, my dear, disappoint, them for one night 
at least 

Tony. As for disappointing them, I should not so much 
mind ; but I can't abide to disappoint myself. 

Mrs. H. {defaming him). You sha'n't go. 

Tony. I will, I tell you. 

Mrs. H. I say you sha'n't. 

Tony. We'll see which is strongest, you or I. 

(Mrs. H. dijtgs to the tail ^Tony's coat., and tries 
to keep him back ; he pulls away., draggi?ig her 
off with him as he shouts, " Yoiks ! Yoiks /'') 

Exit ivith Mrs. Hardcastle, l. i e. 

Hard. (c). Ay, there goes a pair that only spoil each 
other. But is not the whole age in a combination to drive 
sense and discretion out-of-doors ? There's my pretty dar- 
ling Kate ; the fashions of the times have almost infected 
her too. By living a year or two in town, she is as fond 
of gauze and French frippery as the best of them. 

Enter Miss Hardcastle, r. i e. 

Blessings on my pretty innocence ! Dressed out as usual, 
my Kate. Goodness ! what a quantity of superfluous silk 
hast thou got about thee, girl ! I could never teach the 
fools of this age that the indigent world could be clothed 
out of the trimmings of the vain. 

Miss H. You know our agreement, sir. You allow me 
the morning to receive and pay visits, and to dress in my 
own manner ; and in the evening I put on my housewife's 
dress to please you. 



lO SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER. 

Hard. Well, remember I insist on the terms of our agree- 
ment ; and, by-the-by, I believe I shall have occasion to try 
your obedience this very evening. 

Miss H. I protest, sir, I don't comprehend your mean- 
ing. 

Hard. (l.). Then, to be plain with you, Kate, I expect 
the young gentleman I have chosen to be your husband from 
town this very day. I have his father's letter, in which he 
informs me his son is set out, and that he intends to follow 
himself shortly after. 

Miss H. (r.). Indeed ! I wish I had known something 
of this before. Bless me, how shall I behave ? It's a thou- 
sand to one I sha'n't like him ; our meeting will be so for- 
mal and so like a thing of business, that I shall find no room 
for friendship or esteem. 

Hard. Depend upon it, child, I'll never control your 
choice ; but Mr. Marlow, whom I have pitched upon, is the 
son of my old friend. Sir Charles Marlow, of whom you have 
heard me talk so often. The young gentleman has been bred 
a scholar, and is designed for an employment in the service 
of his country. I am told he's a man of an excellent under- 
standing. 

Miss H. Is he ? 

Hard. Very generous. 

Miss H. I believe I shall like him. 

Hard. Young and brave. 

Miss H. I'm sure I shall like him. 

Hard. And very handsome. 

Miss H. My dear papa, say no more. {Kissing him^ 
He's mine, I'll have him. 

Hard. And to crown all, Kate, he's one of the most 
bashful and reserved young fellows in all the world. 

Miss H. Eh ! you have frozen me to death again. That 
word reserved has undone all the rest of his accomplish- 
ments. A reserved lover, it is said, always makes a suspi- 
cious husband. 

Hard. On the contrary, modesty seldom resides in a 
breast that is not enriched with nobler virtues. It was the 
very feature in his character that first struck me. 

Miss H. He must have' more striking features to catch 
me, I promise you. However, if he be so young, so hand- 
some, and so everything, as you mention, I believe he'll do 
still. I think I'll have him. 



SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER. II 

Hard. Ay, Kate, but there is still an obstacle. It's 
more than an even wager he may not have you. 

Miss H. My dear papa, why will you mortify one so ? 
Well, if he refuse, instead of breaking my heart at his indif- 
ference, I'll only break my glass for its flattery, set my cap 
to some newer fashion, and look out for some less difficult 
admirer. 

Hard. Bravely resolved ! In the meantime, I'll go pre- 
pare the servants for his reception ; as we seldom see com- 
pany, they want as much training as a company of recruits, 
the first day's muster. Exit l. i e. 

Miss H. (c). Lud, this news of papa's puts me all in a 
flutter ! Young, handsome ; these he " put last, but I put 
them foremost. Sensible, good-natured ; I like all that. 
But, then, reserved and sheepish, that's much against him. 
Yet can't he be cured of his timidity, by being taught to be 
proud of his wife? Yes, and can't I — but I vow 1 am dis- 
posing of the husband before I have secured the lover. 

• Enter Miss Neville, r. i e. 

I'm glad you're come, my dear. Tell me, Constance, how 
do I look this evening ? Is there anything whimsical about 
me ? Is it one of my well-looking days, child ? Am I in 
face to-day.? 

Miss N. (r.) Perfectly, my dear. Yet now I look again 
— bless me ! — sure no accident has happened among the 
canary birds or the gold fishes. Has your brother or the cat 
been meddling ? Or has the last novel been too moving? 

Miss H. (l.). No; nothing of all this. I have been 
threatened — I can scarce get it out — I have been threat- 
ened with a lover. 

Miss N. And his name — 

Miss H. Is Mario w. 

Miss N. Indeed. 

Miss H. The son of Sir Charles Marlow. 

Miss N. As I live, the most intimate friend of Mr. Hast- 
ings, my admirer. They are never asunder. I believe you 
mu^ have seen him when we lived in town. 

Miss H. Never. 

Miss N. He's a very singular character, I assure you. 
Among women of reputation and virtue he is the modestest 
man alive ; but his acquaintance give him a very different 



12 SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER. 

character among creatures of another stamp. You under- 
stand me ? 

Miss H. An odd character, indeed. I shall never be 
able to manage him. What shall I do ? Pshaw ! think no 
more of him, but trust to occurrences for success. But how 
goes on your own affair, my dear 1 Has my mother been 
courting you for my brother Tony, as usual ? 

READY to change set. 

Miss N. I have just come from one of our agreeable 
tete-a-tetes . She has been saying a hundred tender things, 
and setting off her pretty monster as the very pink of 
perfection. 

Miss H. And her partiality is such that she actually 
thinks him so. A fortune like yours is no small temptation. 
Besides, as she has the whole management of it, I'm not 
surprised to see her unwilling to let it go out of the family. 

Miss N. A fortune like mine, which chiefly consists in 
jewels, is no such mighty temptation. But at any rate, if 
my dear Hastings be but constant, I make no doubt to be 
too hard for her at last. However, I let her suppose that I 
am in love with her son, and she never once dreams that my 
affections are fixed upon another. 

Miss H. My good brother holds out stoutly. I could 
almost love him for hating you so. 

Miss N. It is a good-natured creature at bottom, and 
I'm sure would wish to see me married to anybody but him- 
self. 

BELL rings off R* 

But my aunt's bell rings for our afternoon's walk round 
the improvements. Allons ! Courage is necessary, as our 
affairs are critical. 

Miss H. Would it were bedtime, and all were well ! 

Exeunt r. i e. 
CHANGE set. 



SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER. 
Scene II. — An Alehouse Room. 

Landscape Drop. 



13 



c i- 



c i> 
1:: rt 



R. 



G Tree, with swinging sign "Three Jolly Pigeons." 



/ Bay Window \ 



Bar 



_, ,j^^ Tony, in high chair 








Slang 

Twist 



Punch Bowl, 

pipes and tobacco 

and 

lighted candles 



go 



Muggins 

o 

Aminadab 

o 



c. 



Door 



K 



L. 



(^As sceiie opens characters are discovered as per diagram^ — Bar- 
Maid behind Bar ; Pot-Boy roimd taking orders. All the 
characters at the table should be dressed and made-up as 
described by^o^Y in his first scene, — Dick Muggins as an 
'''• excise7nan,^^ Jack Slang as a '"''horse doctor ^^'' Amina- 
dab as a travelling " street bear dancer^^ Tom Twist as 
a street acrobat?) 

All (as scene opens). Hurrah, hurrah, hurrah, bravo ! 

Slang. Now, gentlemen, silence for a song. The Squire 
is going to knock himself down for a song. 

All. Ay, a song, a song. 

Tony. Then I'll sing you, gentlemen, a song I made 
upon this alehouse, the ''Three Pigeons." 

SONG. — Tony. 

Let schoolmasters puzzle their brain, 

With grammar, and nonsense, and learning; 
Good liquor, I stoutly maintain, 

Gives genius a better discerning. 
Let them brag of their heathenish gods, 

Their Lethes, their Styxes, and Stygians; 
Their quis, their quaes, and their quods, 

They're all but a parcel of pigeons. 

Toroddlc, toroddle, toroll. 



14 SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER. 

"{An old fat'tner crosses 7vindow, and e7itcrs L. 2 E. ; 
sits at table l. Pot-boy runs to him., takes 
his order, goes to bar a?id gets pot of a/e, pipe, 
tobacco., and taper?) 

When hypocrite preachers come down 

A preaching that drinking is sinful, 
I'll wager the rascals a crown, 

They always preach best with a skinful. 
But when you come down with your pence, 

For a slice of such scurvy religion, 
I'll leave it to all men of sense, 

But you, my good friends, are the pigeons. 

Toroddle, toroddle, toroll. 

Then come, put the jorum about. 

And let us be merry and clever; 
Our hearts and our liquors are stout, 

Here's the Three Jolly Pigeons forever. 
Let some cry up woodcock or hare, 

Your bustards, your ducks, and your widgeons; 
But of all the birds in the air, 

Here's a health to the Three Jolly Pigeons. 

Toroddle, toroddle, toroll. 

Slang. The Squire has got spunk in him. 

Muggins. I loves to hear him sing, bekase he never 
gives us nothing that's low. 

Aminadab. Oh, damn anything that's low ! I can't bear it 

Muggins. The genteel thing is the genteel thing, a'ter 
all. If so be that a gentleman bees in a concatenation ac- 
cordingly. 

Aminadab. I like the maxim of it. Master Muggins. 
What though I am obligated to dance a bear, a man may be 
a gentleman for all that. May this be my poison if my bear 
ever dances but to the very genteelest of tunes, — " Water 
Parted from the Sea," the minuet in " Ariadne," or " Come 
Tickle my Nose with a Barley Straw." 

Slang. What a pity it is the Squire is not come to his 
own ! It would be well for all the publicans within ten 
miles round of him. 

Tony. Ecod, and so it would, Master Slang. I'd then 
show what it was to keep choice of company. 

Aminadab. Oh, he takes after his own father for that. 
To be sure, old Squire Lumpkin was the finest gentleman I 
ever set my eyes on. (Marlow, Hastings, and Postillion 
are see?i to cross behind windoiv r. to l. u. e.) For winding 



SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER. 1$ 

the Straight horn, or beating a thicket for a hare or a wench, 
he never had his fellow. It was a saying in the place, that 
he kept the best horses, clogs, and girls in the whole country. 
Tony. Ecod, and when I'm of age I'll be no recreant, I 
promise you. I have been thinking of Bet Bouncer and the 
miller's gray mare to begin with. But come, my boys, drink 
a bout and be merry, for you pay no reckoning. 

Enter Stingo, the Lajidlof-d., l. 2 e. 

Well, Stingo, what's the matter ? 

Stingo. There be two gentlemen in a post-chaise at the 
door. They have lost their way upo' the forest, and they are 
talking something about Mr. Hardcastk. 

Tony. As sure as can be, one of them must be the gentle- 
man that's coming down to court my sister. Then desire 
them to step this way, and I'll set them right in a twinkling. 

Exit Stingo, l. 2 e. 

Gentlemen, as they mayn't be good enough company for you, 
keep your seats for a moment, and I'll be with you in the 
squeezing of a lemon. [Co7?ii?ig down v.. c.) Father-in-law 
has been calling me whelp and hound this half year. Now, 
if I pleased, I could be so revenged upon the old grumble- 
tonian. But then I'm afraid — afraid of what ? I shall soon 
be worth fifteen hundred a year, and let him frighten me out 
of that i.f he can. 

Enter l. 2 e., Stingo, followed by Marlow, Hastings, and 
Postillion. Stingo crosses to Tony at r., a?id enters 
into conversation with hijn. Postillion goes up to bar 
and gets a fnug of beer ^ and stands chaffing with Barmaid 
during following scene. 

Mar. (c.). What a tedious, uncomfortable day have we 
had of it ! We were told it was but forty miles across the 
country, and we have come about threescore. 

Hast. (l.). And all, Marlow, from that unaccountable 
reserve of yours, that would not let us inquire more fre- 
quently on the way. 

Mar. I own, Hastings, I am unwilling to lay myself 
under an obligation to every one I meet ; and often stand 
the chance of an unmannerly answer. 

Hast. At present, however, we are not likely to receive 
any answer. {By his gaze directing Marlow's attention to 



1 6 SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER. 

Tony, 7vho stands r., bitiiig the end of his pipe-ste7n. During 
the entire scene folloiving, the men at table take a lively interest.) 

Tony (r., with his pipe in his ha7id). No offence, gentle- 
men. But I'm told you have been inquiring for one, Mr. 
Hardcastle, in these parts. Do you know what part of the 
country you are in ? 

Hast. Not in the least, sir, but should thank you for 
information. 

Tony. Nor the way you came ? 

Hast. No, sir; but if you can inform us — 

Tony. Why, gentlemen, if you know neither the road 
you are going, nor where you are, nor the road you came, 
the first thing I have to inform you is, that {pauses afid 
blows out a long cloud of smoke) — you have lost your way. 

Mar. We wanted no information of that, sir. 

Tony. Pray, gentlemen, may I be so bold as to ask the 
place from whence you came ? 

Mar. {crosses to R.). That's not necessary towards direct- 
ing us where we are to go. 

Tony {moves to c). No offence ; but question for question 
is all fair, you know. Pray, gentlemen, is not this same 
Hjajdcastle a cross-grained, old-fashioned, whimsical fellow, 
with an ugly face, a daughter, and a pretty son ? 

Hast. We have not seen the gentleman, but he has the 
family you mention. 

Tony. The daughter, a tall, trapesing, trolloping, talka- 
tive maypole ; the son, a pretty, well-bred, agreeable youth, 
that everybody is fond of? 

Mar. Our information differs in this. The daughter is 
said to be well-bred and beautiful ; the son, an awkward 
booby, reared up and spoiled at his mother's apron string. 

Tony. He-he-hem ! Then, gentlemen, all I have to tell 
you is, that you won't reach Mr. Hardcastle's house this 
night, I believe. 

Hast. Unfortunate ! 

Tony. It's a damned long, dark, boggy, dirty, dangerous 
way. Stingo, tell the gentlemen the way to Mr. Hardcastle's. 
( Winking at Stingo. ) Mr. Hardcastle's, of Quagmire 
Marsh, you know. 

Stingo (r. c.). Master Hardcastle's ! Lack-a-daisy, my 
masters, you're come a deadly deal wrong ! When you came 
to the bottom of the hill, you should have crossed down 
Squash-lane. 



SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER. 1 7 

Mar. Cross down Squash-lane ! 

Stingo. Then you were to keep straight forward, till you 
came to where four roads meet ! 

Mar. Come to where four roads meet ! 

Tony. Ay ; but you must be sure to take only one of 
them. 

Hast. Oh ! 

Tony. At a time. 

Mar. Oh, sir, you're facetious. 

Tony. Then keeping to the right, you are to go sideways 
till you come upon CrackskuU Common; there you must 
look sharp for the track of the wheel, and go forward till 
you come to Farmer Murrain's barn. Coming to the farmer's 
barn, you are to turn to the right, and then to the left, and 
then to the right about again, till you find out the old 
mill — 

Mar. Zounds, man ! we could as soon find out the longi- 
tude ! 

Hast. What's to be done, Marlow ? 

Mar. This house promises but a poor reception ; though 
perhaps the landlord can accommodate us. 

Stingo. Alack, master, we have but one spare bed in 
the whole house — 

Tony {hastily interrupting). And to my knowledge that's 
taken up by three lodgers already, besides the man in the 
parlor w^aiting for a chance. {After a pause., in which the 
rest seem disconcerted?) I have hit it. Don't you think, 
Stingo, our landlady could accommodate the gentlemen ? 

Stingo {indignantly). What ? 

Tony. Oh, I don't mean that, you fool. I mean by the 
fireside, with — three chairs and a bolster ? 

Hast. Damn ^^owx fireside ! 

Mar. And damn your three chairs and a bolster, say I. 
{C7'osses to c) 

Tony {crosses down r. ; to Stingo). You do, do you ? Then 
let me see — what if you go on a mile farther to the Buck's 
Head — the old Buck's Head on the hill — one of the best 
inns in the whole county .'* 

Hast. Oh, ho ! so we have escaped an adventure for this 
night, however. 

Stingo {aside to Tony). Sure, you ben't sending them to 
your father's as an inn, be you ? 

Tony. Mum, you fool, you ! Let them find that out 



1 8 SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER. 

{To them^ You have only to keep on straight forward, till 
you come to a large old house by the roadside. You'll see 
a pair of large horns over the door. That's the sign. Drive 
up the yard, and call stoutly about you. 

Hast. Sir, we are obliged to you. The servants can't 
miss the way "i 

Tony. No, no. But I tell you, though — the landlord is 
rich and going to leave off business ; so he wants to be 
thought a gentleman, saving your presence, he, he, he ! 
He'll be for giving you his company, and, ecod ! if you mind 
him, he'll persuade you that his mother was an alderman, 
and his aunt a justice of peace. 

WARN curtain* 

Stingo. A troublesome old blade, to be sure ; but he 
keeps as good wines and beds as any in the whole county. 

Mar. Well, if he supplies us with these, we shall want 
no further connection. {Going towards door l. 2 e.) We are 
to turn to the right, did you say ? 

Tony. No, no ; straight forward. 

Exit Marlow, followed by Hastings a?id Postillion, l. 2 e. 

I'll just step myself, and show you a piece of the way. 
{To Stingo.) Mum ! 

{Bursts of laughter at table imtil curtain is dowJt 
as Tony exit l. 2 e.) 

RING curtain* 

Stingo. Ah, bless your heart, for a sweet, pleasant — 
damned, mischievous son of — no matter. 

QUICK CURTAIN. 



SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER. 



19 



ACT II. 
Scene. — A room in Hardcastle's house^ fourth grooves. 

5 Hallway Backing. 5 



C. door 






Sideboard, covered 
with silver. 




O 



© 

o 




Chair \ 



Arm chair 



\ 



Chair 
Chair 






Chair 



Chair 



Door L. 2 
Chair 



MOONLIGHT on deep win- 
dow at right when cur- 
tain rises^ 

LIGHTED candles ready, 
L^ U* £♦ Gate-bell ready- 
to ringft L*U*EL Punch 
tankard and bill of fare 
ready, L« 2 £♦ 

As curtaift rises enter Hardcastle at c. /;<?;;/ ^.^ followed by 
DiGGORY, Dick, Roger, and Thomas. 

Hard. (c). Well, I hope you are perfect in the table 
exercise I have been teaching you these three days. You 
all know your posts and your places, and can show that you 
have been used to good company without stirring from home. 
All. Ay, ay. {All stand in li?ie from c. to L.) 
Hard. When company comes, you are not to pop out 
and stare, and then run in again, like frightened rabbits in 
a warren. 



20 SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER. 

All. No, no. (Diggory stands 7vith his hands stiffly at 
his sides, the thumbs turned out. Roger has hands in his 
pockets, and Dick is scratching his head?) 

Hard. You, Diggory, whom I have taken from the barn, 
are to make a show at the side-table ; and you, Roger, whom 
I have advanced from the plough, are to place yourself 
behind my chair. But you're not to stand so, with your 
hands in your pockets. Take your hands from your pockets, 
Roger, and from your head, you blockhead, you. See how 
Diggory carries his hands. {All look at Diggory and try to 
i7nitate hi?n.) They're a little too stiff, indeed, but that's no 
great matter. 

Dig. Ay, mind how I hold them; I learned 'to hold my 
hands this way when I was upon drill for the militia. And 
so, being upon drill — 

Hard. You must not be so talkative, Diggory ; you must 
be all attention to the guests; you must hear us talk, and 
not think of talking; you must see us drink and not think of 
drinking ; you must see us eat, and not think of eating. 

Dig. By the laws, your worship, that's perfectly unpos- 
sible. Whenever Diggory sees yeating going forwards, ecod, 
he's always wishing for a mouthful himself. 

Hard. Blockhead! is not a bellyful in the kitchen as 
good as a bellyful in the parlor ? Stay your stomach with 
that reflection. 

Dig. Ecod, I thank your worship, I'll make a shift to 
stay my stomach with a slice of cold beef in the pantry. 

Hard. Diggory, you are too talkative. Then, if I hap- 
pen to say a good thing, or tell a good story at table, you 
must not all burst out a laughing, as if you made part of 
the company. 

Dig. Then, ecod, your worship must not tell the story of 
Old Grouse in the gun-room ; I can't help laughing at that — 
he ! he ! he ! — for the soul of me. We have laughed at that 
these twenty years — ha ! ha ! ha ! 

Hard. Ha ! ha ! ha ! The story is a good one. Well, 
honest Diggory, you may laugh at that — but still remember 
to be attentive. Suppose one of the company should call for 
a glass of wine, how will you behave ? A glass of wine, sir, 
if you please. {7o Diggory.) Eh, why don't you move ? 

Dig. Ecod, your worship, I never have courage till I see 
the eatables and drinkables brought upon the table, and then 
I'm as bould as a lion. 



SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER. 21 

Hard. What, will nobody move ? 

Dig. I'm not to leave this place. 

Roger. I'm sure it's no place of mine. 

Dick. Nor mine, for sartain. 

Dig. Wouns! and I'm sure it canna be mine. 

Hard. You numskulls ! And so, while, like your betters, 
you are quarrelling for places, the guests must be starved ? 
Oh, you dunces ! I find I must begin all over again. 

GATE-BELL heard, L» U. E. 

But don't I hear a coach drive into the yard ? To your posts, 
you blockheads! I'll go, in the meantime, and give my old 
friend's son a hearty welcome at the gate. 

Exit c. to L. 

Dig. Wouns ! my place is gone clean out of my head. 

Roger. I know that my place is everywhere. 

Dick. Where the devil is mine ? 

Dig. My place is to be nowhere at all ; so I'ze go about 
my business. {Turns and sees Roger, who is going c.) What 
are you going to do .'' 

Roger. Nothing. 

Dig. Well, I'll come and help you. 

Exeunt all three servants in a panic, c. to L. Diggory re-enters 
at once ^ z.froin l., pompously, with a lighted candle in each 
hand. 

Dig. {ntarching from entrance to table at r. with exaggerated 
dignity). Welcome, gentlemen, welcome. 

Enter, c.from l., MKRhow, followed by Hastings. Diggory 
places candles on table, swings stiffly right aboyt face ; the 
two me?i 7vatching him. As he passes up stage, Mar low 
hits him with his whip as he passes, and both he and Hast- 
ings laugh heartily as Diggory goes off hastily c. to l. 

Hast. (l.). After the disappointments of the day, welcome 
once more, Charles, to the comforts of a clean room and 
a good fire. Upon my word, a very well-looking house ; an- 
tique, but creditable. (^Looking carelessly about ^ 

Mar. (r.). The usual fate of a large mansion. Having 
first ruined the master by good housekeeping, it at last comes 
to levy contributions as an mn. 

Hast. As you say, we passengers are to be taxed to pay 



22 SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER. 

all these fineries. I have often seen a good sideboard, or 
a marble chimneypiece, though not actually put in the ac- 
count inflame the bill confoundedly. 

Mar. Travellers, George, must pay in all places. The 
only difference is, that in good inns you pay dearly for luxu- 
ries ; in bad inns you are fleeced and starved. {They draw 
chairs to the fireplace and toast their feet. Marlow up stage, 
facing audience, Hastings in profile.) 

Hast. You have lived pretty much among them. In 
truth, I have been so often surprised that you, who have seen 
so much of the world, with your natural good sense and your 
many opportunities, could never yet acquire a requisite share 
of assurance. 

Mar. The Englishman's malady. But tell me, George, 
where could I have learned that assurance you talk of ? My 
life has been chiefly spent m a college or an inn, in seclusion 
from that lovely part of the creation that chiefly teach men 
confidence. I don't know that I was ever familiarly ac- 
quainted with a single modest woman except my mother. 
But among females of another class you know — 

Hast. Ay, among them you are impudent enough of all 
conscience. 

Mar. They are with us, you know. 

Hast. But in the company of women of reputation I never 
saw such an idiot, such a trembler ; you look for all the world 
as if you wanted an opportunity of stealing out of the room. 

Mar. Why, man, that's because I do want to steal out of 
the room. Faith, I have often formed a resolution to break 
the ice, and rattle away at any rate. But, I don't know how, 
a single glance from a pair of fine eyes has totally overset 
my resolution. An impudent fellow may counterfeit modesty, 
but I'll be hanged if a modest man can ever counterfeit im- 
pudence. 

Hast. If you could but say half the fine things to them 
that I have heard you lavish upon the barmaid of an inn, or 
even a college bed maker — 

Mar. Why, George, I can't say fine things to them. 
They freeze, they petrify me. They may talk of a comet, 
or a burning mountain, or some such bagatelle ; but to me 
a modest woman, dressed out in all her finery, is the most 
tremendous object of the whole creation. 

Hast. Ha ! ha ! ha ! At this rate, man, how can you 
ever expect to marry? 



SHE STOOPS TO COXQUER. 2$ 

Mar. Never, unless, as among kings and princes, my 
bride were to be courted by proxy. If, indeed, like an 
Eastern bridegroom, one were to be introduced to a wife 
he never saw before, it might be endured. But to go 
through all the terrors of a formal courtship, together with 
the episode of aunts, grandmothers, and cousins, and at 
last to blurt out the broad, staring question of, — "Madam, 
will you marry me t " No, no, that's a strain much above 
me, I assure you. 

Hast. I pity you! But how do you intend behaving to 
the lady you are come down to visit at the request of your 
father 1 

Mar. {j'ises ; down c. Business of illustrating his 7vords). 
As I behave to all other ladies. Bow very low — answer yes 
or no to all her demands. But for the rest, I don't think I 
shall venture to look in her face till I see my father's again. 

Hast. {?-ising ; comes l.). I'm surprised that one who is 
so warm a friend, can be so cool a lover. 

Mar. To be explicit, my dear Hastings, my chief induce- 
ment down was to be instrumental in forwarding your happi- 
ness, not my own. Miss Neville loves you ; the family don't 
know you ; as my friend, you are sure of a reception, and let 
honor do the rest. 

Hast. My dear Marlow! But I'll suppress the emotion. 
Were I a wretch, meanly seeking to carry off a fortune, you 
should be the last man in the world I would apply to for 
assistance. But Miss Neville's person is all I ask, and that 
is mine, both from her deceased father's consent, and her 
own inclination. 

Mar. Happy man ! You have talents and art to capti- 
vate any woman. I'm doomed to adore the sex, and yet to 
converse with the only part of it I despise. . 

Hard, {heard without at l.). Diggory ! bring in the tank- 
ard of punch. 

Dig. (without). I will, your worship. 

Mar. Pshaw ! this fellow here to interrupt us. {Crosses 
L. c, to Hastings.) 

Enter Hardcastle, c.fro?n l. 

Hard. (c). Gentlemen, once more you are heartily wel- 
come. Which is Mr. Marlow ? Sir, you're heartily welcome. 
It's not my way, you see, to receive my friends with my back 
to the fire ; I like to give them a hearty reception in the old 



24 SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER. 

style at my gate ; I like to see their horses and trunks taken 
care of. 

Mar. (aside, linkijig an7is with Hastings and walking with 
him to ajid fro, Mr. Hardcastle following thefn a little np 
stage and endeavoring to engage in the coni'ersation at every op- 
portunity). He has got our names from the servants already. 
{To Hardcastle.) We approve your caution and hospital- 
ity, sir. {To Hastings.) I have been thinking, George, of 
changing our travelling dresses in the morning ; I am grown 
confoundedly ashamed of mine. 

Hard. I beg, Mr. Marlow, you'll use no ceremony in 
this house. {Co?ning in front of them.) 

Hast, {ignoring him). I fancy, George, you're right; the 
first blow is half the battle. I intend opening the campaign 
with white and gold. 

Hard. Mr. Marlow — Mr. Hastings — gentlemen — pray 
be under no restraint in this house. This is Liberty-hall, gen- 
tlemen; you may do just as you please here. 

Mar. Yet, George, if we open the campaign too fiercely 
at first, we may want ammunition before it is over. I think 
to reserve the embroidery to secure a retreat. What do you 
think of the brown and gold ? 

{They pause at c. Hardcastle crowds in between 
thefn.) 

Hard. Your talking of a retreat, Mr. Marlow, puts me in 
mind of the Duke of Marlborough, when he went to besiege 
Denain. He first summoned the garrison — 

Mar. Ay, and we'll summon your garrison, old boy. 

Hard. He first summoned the garrison, which might con- 
sist of about five thousand men. 

Hast. What a strange fellow is this ! I don't know — 
brown and gold don't go very well together. 

Hard. I say, gentlemen, as I was telling you, he sum- 
moned the garrison, which might consist of about five thou- 
sand men — 

Mar. Why you know the girls like finery. 

Hard. Which might consist of about five thousand men, 
well appointed with stores, ammunition, and other imple- 
ments of war. Now, says the Duke of Marlborough to 
George Brooks, that stood next to him — you must have 
heard of George Brooks — I'll pawn my dukedom, says he, 
but I take that garrison without spilling a drop of blood. So — ■ 



SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER. 25 

Mar. What, my good friend, if you give us a glass of 
punch in the meantime ? It would help us to carry on the 
siege with vigor. 

Hard. Punch, sir.? 

Mar. Yes, sir, punch. A glass of warm punch, after our 
journey, will be comfortable. This is Liberty-hall, you know. 

Enter Diggory, l. 2 e., with a tankard. 

Dig. (l.). Here's a cup, your worship. 

Hard. Here's a cup, sir. {Crossi?ig to Diggory, takes it 
from him^ 

Mar. (aside). So this fellow, in his Liberty-hall, will only 
let us have just what he pleases. 

Dig. {aside to Hardcastle). Did you tell them Old Grouse 
in the gun-room "i 

Hard. No. 

Dig. Tell it ! tell it ! 

Exit, L. 2 E., chuckling. 

Hard. I hope you'll find it to your mind. I have pre- 
pared it with my own hands, and I believe you'll own the 
ingredients are tolerable. Will you be so good as to pledge 
me, sir? 

(Marlovv takes the tankard rather abruptly fro jn 
him. Hardcastle scarcely notices the brusque- 
ness, but goes up stage for a chair^ which he 
brings doivn c, a?id is about to sit, when Mar- 
low takes it from him. Hardcastle goes for 
a second chair ^ but is forestalled by Hastings. 
Hardcastle stands a momc?it looking from 
one to the other, laughs as if trying to consider 
it a joke. He theft goes up for the a?'mchair, 
brings it down, ajid tries to crowd it in betiveen 
them. Hastings turns with his chair a little 
to the L., looking round at the familiarity of 
Hardcastle. At this opportujiity Hard- 
castle crowds his chair between theirs, and 
climbs over the a^'m ifito it, seating himself in 
between them.) 

Mar. (r.) Sir, my service to you. {Drinks, and hands the 
tankard across to Hastings. He drinks, then passes it back to 
Marlow. Hardcastle stops it with a determined air.) 



26 SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER. 

Hard. (c). Mr. Marlow, here's to our better acquain- 
tance. 

{He is about to drink when Marlow deliberately 
takes tankard from hi?n.) 
Mar. (aside). A very impudent fellow, this ! But he's a 
character, and I'll humor him a little. {Drinks.) 

Hast, (l., aside). I see this fellow wants to give us his 
company, and forgets that he's an innkeeper, before he has 
learned to be a gentleman. 

jMar. From the excellence of your cup, my old friend, I 
suppose you have a good deal of business in this part of the 
country. Warm work, now and then at elections, I suppose ? 
Hard. No, sir; I have long given that work over. 
Hast. So, then you have no turn for politics, I find? 
Hard. Why, no, sir; there was a time, indeed, when I 
fretted myself about the mistakes of government, like other 
people; but finding myself every day grow more angry, and 
the government no better, I left it to mend itself. Sir, my 
service to you. 

{lie reaches his hand for the ta7ikard. Marlow, 

shaking it ronnd^ takes no notice of the action. 

Hastings's speech attracts his attention agaifi.) 

Hast. So that, with eating above stairs, and drinking 

below, with receiving your friends within, and amusing them 

without, you lead a good, pleasant, bustling life of it. 

Hard. I do stir about a great deal, that's certain. Half 

the differences of the parish are adjusted in this very parlor. 

Mar. {after drinki?ig). And you have an argument in 

your cup, old gentleman, better than any in Westminster 

Hall. 

Hard. Ay, young gentleman, that, and a little philosoph)-. 
Mar. {aside). Well, this is the first time I ever heard of 
an innkeeper's philosophy. 

' {He is about to ha?id tankard across to Hastings, 
whe?i Hardcastle////j ont his hand to take 
it. Marlow withdraws it aiid passes it behind 
Hardcastle to Hastings. Hardcastle 
turns cojjipletely round, ivatching course if 
tankard^ 
Hast, {taking tankard). So then, like an experienced gen- 
eral, you attack them on every quarter. If you find their 
reason manageable, you attack it with 3-our philosophy ; if 



SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER. 2 J 

you find they have no reason, you attack them with this. 

Here's your health, my philosopher. 

(^He takes a lo7ig draught, finishing with a gasp 
for breath, and then gives the tankard to 
Hardcastle, ivho looks ijito it suspiciously 
and,finding it evpty, looks from one to the other 
and laughs, as if finding it a good joke, then 
puts it on table when they rise.) 

Hard. Good, very good, thank you; ha! ha! Your 
generalship puts me in mind of Prince Eugene, when he 
foudit the Turks at the battle of Belp:rade. You shall hear. 

(All rising and putting chairs back.) 

Mar. (r.)- Instead of the battle of Belgrade, I think it's 
almost time to talk about supper. What has your philosophy 
got in the house for supper ? 

Hard. (c). For supper, sir ? (Aside.) Was ever such a 
request made to a man in his own house ? 

Mar. Yes, sir, supper, sir. I begin to feel an appetite. 
I shall make devilish work to-night in the larder, I promise 
you. 

Hard, (aside). Such a brazen dog sure never my eyes 
beheld. (To Marlow.) Why, really, sir, as for supper, I 
can't well tell. My Dorothy and the cook-maid settle these 
things between them. I leave these kind of things entirely 
to them. 

Mar. You do, do you > 

Hard. Entirely. By-the-by, I believe they are in actual 
consultation upon what's for supper this moment in the 
kitchen. 

Mar. Then I beg they'll admit me as one of their privy 
council. It's a way I have got. When I travel I always 
choose to regulate my own supper. Let the cook be called. 
No offence, I hope, sir ? 

Hard. Oh, no, sir, none in the least — yet I don't know 
now ; our Bridget, the cook-maid, is not very communicative 
upon these occasions. Should we send for her, she might 
scold us all out of the house. 

Hast. (l.). Let's see the list of the larder, then. I ask it 
as a favor. I always match my appetite to my bill of fare. 

Mar. (to Hardcastle, 7e.'ho looks at them with surprise). 
Sir, he's very right, and it's my way too. 

Hard. Sir, you have a right to command here. (Calli/ig.) 



28 SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER. 

Here, Diggor\% send us the bill of fare for to-night's supper. 
I believe it's drawn out. Your manner, Mr. Hastings, puts 
me in mind of my uncle, Colonel Gunthorp. It was a say- 
ing of his, that no man was sure of his supper till he had 
eaten it. 

Enter Diggory, with bill of fare ^ l. 2 e. 

Dig. {aside to Hardcastle). Did you tell about Old 
Grouse ? 

Hard. No, no. {Taking bill of fare.) 
Dig. Tell 'em. 

Exit L. 2 E. 

Hast, {aside). All upon the high ropes ! His uncle a 
colonel — we shall soon hear of his mother being a justice of 
the peace. But let's hear the bill of fare. 

(Hardcastle is about to read hill of fare. Mar- 
low gejitly takes it from his ha?id.) 

Mar. {q.., perusing). What's here ? For the first course, 
for the second course, for the dessert. The devil ! sir, do 
you think we have brought down the whole Joiner's company, 
or the corporation of Bedford t Two or three little things, 
clean and comfortable, will do. 

Hast. But let's hear it. 

Mar. {reading). "For the first course at the top, a pig's 
face and prune sauce. " 

Hast. Damn your pig, I say. 

Mar. Damn your prune sauce, say I. 

Hard, (r., aside). And damn your delicate stomachs, say I. 
{Aloud.) And yet, gentlemen, to men that are hungry, pig 
with prune sauce is very good eating. 

Mar. {reading). "Item; a calf's head and brains." 

Hast. Oh, knock out your brains ; I don't like 'em. 

Mar. Let them be buttered and laid on a plate by them- 
selves. 

Hard, {aside). If your brains were knocked out, a very 
small plate would hold them.. {Aloud.) But, gentlemen, 
you are my guests ; make what alterations you please. Is 
there anything else you wish to retrench or alter, gentle- 
men ? 

Mar. {reading). "Item; a pork pie and boiled rabbit and 
sausages, a florentine, a shaking pudding, and a dish of tif- 
taf-ferty cream." 



SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER. 29 

Hast. Confound your made dishes. I'm for plain eating. 

Hard. I'm sorry, gentlemen, that I have nothing you 
h'ke ; but if there be anything you have a particular fancy 
to — 

Mar. Why, really, sir, your bill of fare is so exquisite 
that any one part of it is full as good as another. Send us 
what you please. So much for supper. And now to see that 
our beds are aired, and luggage properly taken care of. 

Hard. I entreat you'll leave all that to me. You shall 
not stir a step. 

Mar. Leave that to you ! I protest, sir, you must excuse 
me, I always look to these things myself. 

Hard. I must insist, sir, you'll make yourself easy on 
that head. {Gomg towa?'d r. 2 e. to give orders.) 

Mar. (juith a passionate outburst of voice). ^ You see I'lii 
resolved on it. (Aside, pushing Hardcastle out of his way 
and crossing to r. 2 E.) A very troublesome fellow this, as 
ever I met with. 

Exit R. 2 E. 

Hard, (aside). This may be modern modesty, but damn 
me if I ever saw anything look so like old-fashioned im- 
pudence. 

Exit R. 2 E. 

Hast. (c). So, I find this fellow's civilities begin to grow 
troublesome. But who can be angry at those assiduities 
which are meant to please him .? (Looks off' l.) Ha ! what 
do I see t Miss Neville, by all that's happy ! 

Enter Miss Neville, l. 2 e. 

Miss N. My dear Hastings ! To what unexpected good 
fortune, to what accident am I to ascribe this happy 
meeting .'* 

Hast. Let me ask the same question, as I could never 
have hoped to meet my dearest Constance at an inn. 

Miss N. (l. c). An inn ! You mistake ; my aunt, my 
guardian, lives here. What could induce you to think this 
house an inn ? 

Hast. (r. c). My friend, Mr. Marlow, with whom I came 
down, and I, have been sent here as to an inn, I assure you. 
A young fellow, whom we accidentally met at a house hard 
by, directed us hither. 

Miss N. Certainly it must be one of my hopeful cousin's 



30 SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER. 

tricks, of whom you have heard me talk so often. Ha ! ha ! 
ha! ha! 

Hast. He whom your aunt intends for you ? He of 
whom I have such just apprehensions 1 

Miss N. You have nothing to fear from him, I assure 
you. You'd adore him if you knew how heartily he de- 
spises me. My aunt knows it too, and has undertaken to 
court me for him, and actually begins to think she has made 
a conquest.- 

Hast. You must know, my Constance, I have just seized 
this happy opportunity of my friend's visit here, to get 
admittance into the family. The horses that carried us 
down are now fatigued with the journey, but they'll soon be 
refreshed ; and then, if my dearest girl will trust to her 
faithful Hastings, we shall soon be out of their power. 

Miss N. I have often told you that, though ready to 
obey you, I yet should leave my little fortune behind with 
reluctance. The greatest part of it was left me by my uncle, 
the India director, and chiefly consists in jewels. I have 
been for some time persuading my aunt to let me wear them. 
I fancy I'm very near succeeding. The instant they are put 
into my possession you shall find me ready to make them 
and myself yours. 

Hast. Perish the baubles ! Your person is all I desire. 
In the meantime, my friend Marlow must not be let into his 
mistake. I know the strange reserve of his temper is such, 
that if abruptly informed of it, he would instantly quit the 
house before our plan was ripe for execution. 

Miss N. But how shall we keep him in the deception ? 
Miss Hardcastle is just returned from walking ; what if we 
persuade him she has come to this house as to an inn t Come 
this way. {They confer up stage.) 

Enter Marlow, r. 2 e. 

Mar. (c). The assiduities of these good people tease me 
beyond bearing. My host seems to think it ill manners to 
leave me alone, and so he claps not only himself but his old- 
fashioned wife on my back. They talk of coming to sup 
with us too ; and then, I suppose, we are to run the gauntlet 
through all the rest of the family. {He turns and sees Miss 
Neville y^r the first ti7ne. He becomes so nervous and bashful 
that he quite loses his head., and attempts to go off at r. 2 E., but 
Hastings dashes after him arid pulls hint back by the coat-tail^ 



SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER. 3 1 

and dH7'ing the entire see tie that follows he never once looks Miss 
Neville /// the face?} What have we got here ? 

Hast. My dear Charles ! Let me congratulate 3'ou — 
the most fortunate accident ! Whom do you think is just 
alighted ? 

Mar. (r.). Cannot guess. 

Hast. (c). Our mistresses, boy; Miss Hardcastle and 
Miss Neville. Give me leave to introduce Miss Constance 
Neville to your acquaintance. (Miss Neville comes down l.) 
Happening to dine in the neighborhood, they called on their 
return to take fresh horses here. Miss Hardcastle has just 
stepped into the next room, and will be back in an instant. 
Wasn't it lucky, eh ? 

Mar. (aside). I have just been ^Tlortified enough of all 
conscience, and here comes something to complete my em- 
barrassment. 

Hast. Well, but wasn't it the most fortunate thing in the 
world .? 

Mar. Oh, yes, very fortunate — a most joyful encounter ! 
But our dresses, George, you know, are in disorder. What 
if we should postpone the happiness till to-morrow.? To- 
morrow at her own house ? It will be every bit as con- 
venient, and rather more respectful. To-morrow let it be. 
(Offering to go, but is stopped by Hastings, who gets between 
him a7id the door., r. 2 e.) 

Miss N. By no means, sir. Your ceremony will displease 
her. The disorder of your dress will show the ardor of your 
impatience. Besides, she knows you are in the house, and 
will permit you to see her. 

Mar. (aside., c). Oh, the devil she will ! How shall I sup- 
port it .'' Hem ! hem ! Hastings, you must not go. You are 
to assist me, you know. I shall be confoundedly ridiculous. 

Hast. (r. c). PshaM^, man ! it's but the first plunge, and 
all's over. She's but a woman, you know. 

Mar. And of all women, she that I most dread to en- 
counter. (Down R.) 

Enter Miss Hardcastle, Q.from l., as returning from walk- 
ing., with a bo7u/et, etc. Business of Hastings greet i7ig 
Miss Hardcastle. 

Hast. (introduci7ig him). Miss Hardcastle, Mr. Marlow. 
I'm proud of bringing two persons of such merit together, 



32 SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER. 

that only want to know, to esteem each other. {Dojuni r. to 
Marlow, leaving his hat upo?i the table. ) 

Miss H. {iiside^ at c. ; Miss Neville at l. of her). Now 
for meeting my modest gentleman, {After a pause, in which 
Jie appears very uneasy and disconcerted ; aloud.) I'm glad of 
your safe arrival, sir. I'm told you had some accidents 
by the way. 

Mar. (r. c). Only a few, madam. Yes, we had some. 
Yes, madam, a good many accidents, but should be sorry, 
madam — or rather, glad of any accidents — that are so 
agreeably concluded. Hem ! 

Hast, (r., to Marlow). You never spoke better in your 
whole life. Keep it up, and I'll insure you the victory. 

Miss H. I'm afraid you flatter, sir. You that have seen 
so much of the finest company can find little entertainment 
in an obscure corner of the country. 

Mar. {gather i fig courage). I have lived — 

Hast, {interrupting). Ahem ! 

Mar. Well, George, I hai-e lived in the world, but I have 
kept little company. I have been an observer upon life, 
madam, while others were enjoying it. 

Hast, {aside to Marlow). Cicero never spoke better. 
Once more, and you are confirmed in assurance forever. 

Mar. {aside to Hastings). Hem ! Stand by me then, and 
when I'm down, throw in a word or two to set me up again. 

Miss H. An observer, like you, upon life were, I fear, 
disagreeably employed, since you must have had much more 
to censure than to approve. 

Mar. Pardon me, madam, I was always willing to be 
amused. The folly of most people is rather an object of 
mirth than uneasiness. 

Hast, {aside to Marlow). Bravo, bravo ! Never spoke so 
well in your whole life. {Aloud.) Well, Miss Hardcastle, I 
see that you and Mr. Marlow are going to be very good com- 
pany. I believe our being here will but embarrass the inter- 
view. 

(Miss Neville steps across behind Miss Hardcas- 
tle, afid crosses down stage betu'een Marlow 
and Hastings ; a7id during the following speech 
Marlow, reaching behind him plucks 7iervously 
at her gown as he stares at the ground, tlwik- 
ing she is Hastings.) 



SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER. 33 

Mar. Not in the least, Mr. Hastings. We like your 
company of all things. {Aside to Hastings.) Damn it, 
George ! {Looks up at this word, discovers his mistake, and is 
completely dumfotuided ; he turns round, Iwzvs aiid stanuners 
ill his confusion, while Hastings takes Miss Neville on his 
ar7n and makes a hasty ^"^lyX, with her at r. 2 E. Aside.) What 
the devil shall I do ? {Aiotcd.) Will you please be seated, 
madam? {Brings a chair dow7i and sits ; pauses, sees Miss 
Hardcastle still standing, rises, puts his hat on a chair, while 
he bri7igs another down for her. They both sit ; Marlow, r., 
Miss Hardcastle, l. During the following scene Marlow 
draws his chair away little by little towards the r. Miss Hard- 
castle moves her chair every time Marlow moves his until he 
gets to r. wing. When he cajinot move any faj'ther, he looks 
stupidly at Miss Hardcastle and then at the wing.) I say, 
ma'am — 

Miss H. Sir! 

Mar. I am afraid, ma'am, I am not so happy as to make 
myself agreeable to the ladies — {Moves his chair to r.) 

Miss H. The ladies, I should hope, have employed some 
part of your addresses. {Moves after hitn.) 

Mar. {relapsing into timidity). Pardon me, madam, I — 
I — I — as yet have studied — only — to — deserve them. 
{Moves to r, again.) 

Miss H. And that, some say, is the very worst way to 
obtain them. {Moves after hi7n.) 

Mar. Perhaps so, madam. But I love to converse only 
with the more grave and sensible part of the sex — But I'm 
afraid I grow tiresome. {Moves r. again.) 

Miss H. Not at all, sir; there is nothing I like so much 
as grave conversation myself ; I could hear it forever. In- 
deed, I have often been surprised how a man of sentiment 
could ever admire those light, airy pleasures, where nothing 
reaches the heart. {Moves after hi7n.) 

Mar. It's — a disease — of the mind, madam. In the 
variety of tastes there must be some who, wanting a relish — • 
for — um — a — um. {Moves r.) 

Miss H. . I understand you, sir. There must be some 
who, wanting a relish for refined pleasure, pretend to despise 
what they are incapable of tasting. {Moves r.) 

Mar. My meaning, madam, but infinitely better ex- 
pressed. And I can't help observing — a — (Moves r.) 

Miss H. {aside). Who could ever suppose this gentleman 



34 -S-//^ STOOPS 7V CONQUER. 

impudent upon some occasions ! {To Marlow.; You were 
going to observe, sir. {Moves r.) 

Mar. I was observing, madam — I protest, madam, I 
forget what I was going to observe. {Moves r.) 

Miss H. {aside). I vow and so do I. {To jMarlow.) 
You were observing, sir, that in this age of hypocrisy — 
something about hypocrisy, sir. 

Mar. Yes, madam, in this age of hypocrisy there are 
few who upon strict inquiry do not — a — a — a — 

Miss H. I understand you perfectly, sir. 

Mar. {aside). Egad! and that's more than I do myself. 

Miss H. You mean that in this hypocritical age there 
are few who do not condemn in public what they practice in 
private, and think they pay every debt to virtue when they 
praise it. 

Mar. True, madam ; those who have most virtue in their 
mouths, have least of it in their bosoms — breasts, no, no, 
hearts. But I'm sure I tire you, madam. {Is confused to 
find Jiivisclf against tJie wall.) 

Miss H. Not in the least, sir ; there's something so 
agreeable and spirited in your manner, such life and force 
— pray, sir, go on. {Endeavors not to laugh i?i his face.) 

Mar. Yes, madam, I was saying — But I see Miss 
Neville expecting us in the next room. I would not intrude 
for the world. {Rising^ putting his chair behind him i7i such a 
7uay as to block her exit; picks up Hastings's hat^ which has 
been left OJi table?) 

Miss H. {rising and going Q,.). I protest, sir, I never was 
more agreeably entertained in all my life. 

Mar. (r. c, looking of^^.). But she beckons us to join her. 
Madam, shall I do myself the honor to attend you .? {Bowiiig 
repeatedly., his hat held before him., he k?iocks Miss Hardcastle's 
fan out of her hand. Stoops to pick it up and gives her his hat 
i?istead, pocketing the fan ; still simpering aJid boivifig., he stumbles 
over the chair., a7id finally offers his ar7n to take her off. She 
puts a piece of her lace scarf on it. He simpers and tiods over 
it as if she we?'e leaning on him, and exit quickly R. 2 E.) 

Miss H. (r. c, looking after him). Well, then, I'll follow. 
Ha! ha! ha! ha! Was there ever such a sober, sentimental 
interview ! I'm certain he scarce looked in my face the whole 
time. Yet the fellow, but for his unaccountable bashfulness, 
is pretty well too. He has good sense, but then so buried in 
his fears, that it fatigues one more than ignorance. If I 



SHE STOOPS TO COA'QUER. 35 

could teach him a little confidence, it would be doing some- 
body that I know of a piece of service. But who is that 
somebody ? — that, faith, is a question 1 can scarce answer. 

Exit R. 2 E. 

Enter Tony a7id Miss Neville, z.froui r. 

Tony {coming down c). What do you follow me for. 
Cousin Con t I wonder you're not ashamed to be so very 
engaging. 

Miss N. {following on l.). I hope, cousin, one may speak 
to one's own relations, and not be to blame. 

Tony. Ay, but I want to know what sort of a relation 
you want to make me, though; but it won't do. I tell you, 
cousin Con, it won't do, so I beg you'll keep your distance; I 
want no nearer relationship. {He takes an apple frof?i his 
pocket and is about to bite it, wJie7i Miss Neville snatcJies it 
and exit qtcickly, followed by Tony, c. to r.) 

Enter Mrs. Hardcastle and Hastings, r. 2 e. 

Mrs. H. Well, I vow, Mr. Hastings, you're very enter- 
taining. There is nothing in the world I love to talk of 
so much as London and the fashions, though I was never 
there myself. 

Hast. (r.). Never there ! You amaze me ! From your 
air and manner, I concluded you had been bred all your life 
either at Ranelagh, St. James's {aside), or Tower Wharf. 

Mrs. H. (c). O sir, you're only pleased to say so. We 
country persons can have no manner at all. I'm in love with 
the town, and that serves to raise me above some of our 
neighboring rustics; but who can have a manner that has 
never seen the Pantheon, the Grotto Gardens, the Borough, 
and such places where the nobility chiefly resort .? All 1 
can do is to enjoy London at second-hand. T take care to 
know every tetc-a-tete from the Scandalous Magazine, and 
have all the fashions, as they*come out, in a letter from the 
two Miss Rickets of Crooked-lane. Pray how do you like 
this head, Mr. Hastings ? 

Hast. Extremely elegant and de'gagee, upon my word, 
madam. Your friseur is a Frenchman, I suppose? 

Mrs. H. I protest I dressed it myself from a print in the 
ladies' memorandum book for the last year. 



36 SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER. 

Hast. Indeed ! Such a head in a side-box at the play 
house would draw as many gazers as my Lady Mayoress at 
a city ball. 

Mrs. H. I vow, since inoculation began, there is no such 
thing to be seen as a plain woman ; so one must dress a little 
particular, or one may escape in a crowd. 

Hast. Intolerable ! At your age you may wear what 
you please, and it must become you. 

Mrs. H. , Pray, Mr. Hastings, what do you take to be the 
most fashionable age a^ut town ? 

Hast. Some time ago forty was all the mode; but I'm 
told the ladies intend to bring up fifty for the ensuing winter. 

Mrs. H. Seriously ? Then I shall be too young for the 
fashion. 

Re-enter Tony mid Miss Neville, c. //w;^ r. She follows 
him dowji L., hectoring him. 

Hast. No lady begins to put on jewels now till she's 
past forty. For instance, Miss there, in a polite circle, 
would be considered as a child, a mere maker of samplers. 

Mrs. H. And yet my niece thinks herself as much a 
woman, and is as fond of jewels, as the oldest of us all. 

Hast. Your niece, is she ? And that young gentleman, 
a brother of yours, I should presume } 

Mrs. H. My son, sir. They are contracted to each 
other. Observe their little sports. They quarrel and make 
it up again ten times a day, as if they were man and wife 
already. {To thc??i.) Well, Tony, child, what soft things 
are you saying to your Cousin Constance this evening ? 

Tony (l.). I have been saying no soft things ; but that 
it's very hard to be followed about so. Ecod, I've not a 
place in the house now that's left to myself but the stable. 

Mrs. H. (r. c). Never mind him. Con, my dear. He's 
in another story behind your back. 

Miss N. (l. c). There's something generous in my 
cousin's manner. He falls out before faces to be forgiven 
in private. 

Tony. That's a damned, confounded — crack. 

Mrs. H. Don't you think they are like each other about 
the mouth, Mr. Hastings ? 

Hast. Very like. 

Mrs. H. The Blenkinsop mouth to a T. They're of a 



SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER. 37 

size too. Back to back, my pritties, that Mr. Hastings may 
see you. (Miss Neville comes dowji^pidling ^o^y forward.) 
Tony. You had as good not make me, I can tell you. 

(Mrs. Hardcastle pulls Tony toward Miss 
Neville, aJid makes them stand back to back 
to be measured. He knocks his head roughly 
against Miss Neville's. She screams and 
crosses to r., rubbing her head?) 

Mrs. H. (l. c). For shame, Tony ! You a man, and be- 
have so ! 

Tony (c). If I'm a man, let me have my fortin. Ecod ! 
I'll not be made a fool of any longer. 

Mrs. H. Is this, ungrateful boy, all that I'm to get for 
the pains I've taken in your education ? Didn't I rock you 
in a cradle .'' 

Tony. Well, you wouldn't rock me in a coal scuttle, 
would you ? 

Mrs. H. Didn't I feed that pretty mouth with a spoon .'' 

Tony. Well, you didn't want to feed it with a fire shovel, 
did you t 

Mrs. H. Didn't I work that waistcoat and those ruffles 
to make you look genteel ? 

Tony \rubbing his larist across his mouth and grimacing). 
Well, ain't I genteel ? Ecod ! I tell you I'll not be made a 
fool of any longer. 

Mrs. H. Wasn't it all for your good, viper t Wasn't it 
all for your good ? 

Tony. I wish you'd let me and my good alone, then. 
Snubbing this way, when I'm in spirits. If I'm to have any 
good, let it come of itself ; not to keep dingling it, dingling 
it into one so. 

Mrs. H. That's false ; I never see you when you're in 
spirits. No, Tony, you then go to the alehouse or kennel. 
I'm never to be delighted with your agreeable, wild notes, 
unfeeling monster ! 

Tony. Ecod ! mamma, your own notes are the wildest of 
the two. 

{Leaps astride chair at l., and I'ides as if racings 
snapping his whip over the back of the chair as 
if at an imaginary horse.) 

Mrs. H. W^as ever the like ! But I see he wants to 



38 SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER. 

break my heart; I see he does. {She cries, and Tony mimics 
he?-.) 

Hast, {to c). Dear madam, permit me to lecture the young 
gentleman a little. I'm certain 1 can persuade him to his 
duty. 

Mrs. H. (r. c). Well ! I must retire. Come, Constance, 
my love. You see, Mr. Hastings, the wretchedness of my sit- 
uation ; was ever poor woman so plagued with a dear, sweet, 
pretty (Tony ?7iakes ill-natured faces and langhs nastily at her)., 
provoking, undutiful boy ! 

Exit, R. 2 Y.., followed by Miss Neville, who has been watch- 
ing the scene with an amused but demure face. 

Tony {singing). 

*' There was a young man riding by, 
And iain would have his will. 
Twang-to-dillo-dell " — 

Don't mind her; let her cry. It's the comfort of her heart. 
I have seen her and sister cry over a book for an hour 
together, and they said they liked the book the more it 
made them cry. 

Hast. (c). Then you're no friend to the ladies, I find, 
my pretty young gentleman ? 

Tony. That's as I find 'um. 

Hast. Not to her of your mother's choosing, I dare 
answer? And yet she appears to be a pretty, well-tempered 
girl. 

Tony. That's because you don't know her as well as I. 
Ecod ! I know every inch about her ; and there's not a more 
cantankerous toad in all Christendom. 

Hast, {aside). Pretty encouragement this for a lover! 

Tony. I have seen her since the height of that. She has 
as many tricks as a hare in a thicket, or a colt the first day's 
breaking. 

Hast. To me she appears sensible and silent. 

Tony. Ay, before company. But when she's with her 
playmates she's as loud as a hog in a gate. 

Hast. Well, but you must allow her a little beauty. Yes, 
you nmst allow her some beauty. 

Tony. Bandbox! She's all a made-up thing, mun. Ah! 
could you but see Bet Bouncer of these parts, you might then 
talk of beauty. Ecod ! she has two eyes as black as sloes. 



SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER. 39 

and cheeks as broad and red as a pulpit cushion. She 
would make two of she. 

Hast. Well, what say you to a friend that would take 
this bitter bargain off your hands 1 

Tony. Anon 1 

Hast. Would you thank him, that would take Miss Nev- 
ille, and leave you to happiness and your dear Betsey.? 

WARN curtain* 

Tony. Ay ; but where is there such a friend, for who 
would take her "i 

Hast. I am he. If you but assist me, I'll engage to 
whip her off to France, and you shall never hear more of 
her. 

Tony. Assist you ? {Leaps off the chair ^ and meets Hast- 
ings at c.) Ecod, I will to the last drop of my blood. I'll 
clap a pair of horses to your chaise, that shall trundle you off 
in a twinkling, and may be get you part of her fortin beside, 
in jewels, that you little dream of. 

Hast. My dear squire, this looks like a lad of spirit. 

Tony. Come along, then, and you shall see more of my 
spirit before you have done with me. 

RING curtain. 

Exeunt, aj-in in arm, l. 2 e. ; Tony singing, 

" We are the boys 
That fear no noise 
When the thundering cannon roars" — 

QUICK CURTAIN. 



40 SHE STOOPS TO COXQUER. 

ACT III. 

Scene. — The same roo7n in Hardcastle's house. 

READY a jewel casket, piece 
of stringf and cup and ball, 
at R» U» K Bunch of 
keys at L. 2 E* 

Enter Hardcastle, r. 2 e. 

Hard. (c). What could my old friend, Sir Charles, mean 
by recommending his son as the modestest young man in 
town ? To me he appears the most impudent piece of brass 
that ever spoke with a tongue. He has taken possession 
of the easy-chair by the fireside already. He took off his 
boots in the parlor, and desired me to see them taken care 
of. I'm desirous to know how his impudence affects my 
daughter. She will certainly be shocked at it. 

Enter Miss Hardcastle, plainly dressed^ l. 2 e. 

Well, my Kate, I see you have changed your dress as I bid 
you ; and yet, I believe, there was no great occasion. 

Miss H. (l. c). I find such a pleasure, sir, in obeying 
your commands, that I take care to observe them without 
ever debating their propriety. 

Hard. And yet, Kate, I sometimes give you some cause, 
particularly when I recommended my modest gentleman to 
you as a lover to-day. 

Miss H. You taught me to expect something extraordi- 
narv, and I find the original exceeds the description. 

Hard. I was never so surprised in all my life ! He has 
quite confounded all my faculties ! 

Miss H. I never saw anything like it ; and a man of the 
world too ? 

Hard. Ay, he learned it all abroad. What a fool was I, 
to think a young man could learn modesty by travelling. 
He might as soon learn wit at a masquerade. 

Miss H. It seems all natural to him. 

Hard. A good deal assisted by bad company and a 
French dancing-master. 

Miss H. Sure you mistake, papa! A French dancing- 



SHE STOOPS TO COXQUER. . 4 1 

master could never have taught him that timid look — that 
awkward address — that bashful manner — 

Hard. Whose look ? Whose manner, child ? 

Miss H. Mr. Marlow's. His jfiaiivaise honte, his timidity, 
struck me at the hrst sight. 

Hard. Then your first sight deceived you ; for I think 
him one of the most brazen first sights that ever astonished 
my senses. 

Miss H. Sure, sir, you rally? I never saw any one so 
modest. 

Hard. And can you be serious "^ I never saw such a 
bouncing, swaggering puppy since 1 was born. Bully Daw- 
son was but a fool to him. 

Miss H. Surprising ! He met ra« with a respectful bow, 
a stammering voice, and a look fixed on the ground. 

Hard. He met me w^ith a loud voice, a lordly air, and a 
familiarity that froze me to death. 

Miss H. He treated me wdth diffidence and respect; cen- 
sured the manners of the age ; admired the prudence of the 
girl that never laughed ; tired me with apologies for being 
tiresome ; then left the room with a bow, and, '' Madam, I 
would not detain you." {Mwikki?ig Marlow.) 

Hard. He spoke to me as if he knew me all his life 
before. Asked twenty questions, and never waited for an 
answer. Interrupted my best remarks with some silly pun, 
and when I was talking of the Duke of Marlborough and my 
friend Brooks, he asked if I was not a good hand at making 
punch. Yes, Kate, he asked your father if he was not a 
maker of punch ! 

Miss H. One of us must certainly be mistaken. 

Hard. In one thing, however, we are agreed — to reject 
him. 

Miss H. Yes. But upon conditions. For if you should 
find him less impudent, and I more presuming ; if you find 
him more respectful, and I more importunate — I don't 
know — the man is well enough for a man — certainly he 
has a very passable complexion. 

Hard. If we should find him so — but that's impossible. 
The first appearance has done my business ; I'm seldom de- 
ceived in that. 

Miss H. Then as one of us must be mistaken, what if we 
go to make further discoveries ? 

Hard. Agreed. Pjut, depend on't, I'm in the right. 



42 SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER. 

Miss H. And depend on't I'm not much in the wrong. 

Exeunt Miss Hardcastle at l. 2 e., and Hardcastle at r. 
2 E., each shaking a finger at the other as they go out. 

Enter Tony, mnning in 7vith a casket^ c. fro7n r. 

Tony. Ecod ! I have got them. Here they are. My 
cousin Con's necklaces, bobs and all. My mother sha'n't 
cheat the poor souls out of their fortin neither. {Takes tivo 
or three halfpence out of his pocket a?td begins tossing and catch- 
ing them.) 

Enter Hastings, l. 2 e. 

Oh, my genus, is that you ? 

Hast. (l. c). My dear friend, how have you managed 
with your mother.-* I hope you have amused her with pre- 
tending love for your cousin, and that you are willing to be 
reconciled at last ; we shall be ready to set off in a short 
time. 

Tony (r.). And here's something to bear your charges 
by the way. (Giving the casket.) Your sweetheart's jewels. 
Keep them, and hang those, I say, that would rob you of 
one of them, {lakes string from his pocket and plays at 
cat^ s-cradk.) 

Hast. But how have you procured them from your 
mother ? 

Tony. Ask me no questions, and I'll tell you no fibs. I 
procured them by the rule of thumb. If I had not a key to 
every drawer in mother's bureau, how could I go to the ale- 
house so often as I do ? An honest man may rob himself of 
his own at any time. 

Hast. Thousands do it every day. But, to be plain with 
you. Miss Neville is endeavoring to procure them from her 
aunt this very instant. If she succeeds, it will be the most 
delicate way at least of obtaining them. 

{During the following speeches Tony is always oc- 
cupied with business. He tips tivo chairs down 
in front of table .,^..1 and attaches his cat^s-cra- 
dle string to them for reins. Then draws the 
lighted candles^ one on one corner and the other 
on opposite corner of the table, to serve as coach 
laf?ips.) 

Tony. Well, keep them, till you know how it will be. 



SHE STOOPS TO COXQUER. 43 

But I know how it will be well enough, she'd as soon part 
with the only sound tooth in her head. 

Hast. But I dread the effects of her resentment, when 
she finds she has lost them. 

Tony. Never you mind her resentment ; leave me to 
manage that. I don't value her resentment the bounce of a 
cracker. Zounds ! here they are. {Leaps on table betiveen 
candles and pretends to drive at a great pace.) Morrice ! 
Prance ! 

Exit Hastings, l. 2 e. 

Enter Mrs. Hardcastle a7id Miss Neville, r. 2 e. As they 
come on., ^o^y jumps from table., and pulli/ig cup and ball 
out of his pocket, begins to play up c. 

Mrs. H. {down r.). Indeed, Constance, you amaze me ; 
such a girl as you want jewels ! It will be time enough for 
jewels, my dear, these twenty years hence, when your beauty 
begins to want repairs. 

Miss N. {at f replace, l.). But what will repair beauty at 
forty, will certainly improve it at twenty, madam. 

Mrs. H. Yours, my dear, can admit of none. That nat- 
ural blush is beyond a thousand ornaments. Besides, child, 
jewels are quite out at present. Don't you see half the 
ladies of our acquaintance, my Lady Kill-day-light, and Mrs. 
Crump, and the rest of them, carry their jewels to town, and 
bring nothing but paste and marcasites back t 

Miss N. But who knows, madam, but somebody that 
shall be nameless would like me best with all my little finery 
about me "^ 

Mrs. H. Consult your glass, my dear, and then see if, 
with such a pair of eyes, you want any better sparklers. 
What do you think, Tony, my dear. {At this momejit Tony 
strikes himself on the nose ivith his ball. Business of rubbing 
it, a7id holding on to it-.) Does your cousin Con want any 
jewels in your eyes, to set off her beauty.? 

Tony (r. c). That's as hereafter may be. 

Miss N. My dear aunt, if you knew how it would oblige 
me — 

Mrs. H. a parcel of old fashioned rose and table cut 
things. They would make you look like the court of King 
Solomon at a puppet-show. Besides, I believe i can't read- 
ily come at them. They may be missing for aught I know 
to the contrary. 



44 -S-//^ STOOPS TO CONQUER. 

Tony {aside to Mrs. Hardcastle). Then why don't you 
tell her so at once, as she's so longing for them? Tell her 
they're lost. It's the only way to quiet her. Say they are 
lost, and call me to bear witness. 

Mrs. H. {aside to Tony). You know, my dear, I'm only 
keeping them for you. So, if I say they're gone, you'll bear 
me witness, will you .'' He ! he ! he ! 

Tony. Never fear me. Ecod ! I'll say I saw them taken 
out with my own eyes. 

Miss N. I desire them but for a day, madam. Just to 
be permitted to show them as relics, and then they may be 
locked up again. 

Mrs. H. To be plain with you, my dear Constance, if I 
could find them, you should have them. They're missing, 
I assure you. Lost, for aught I know. But we must have 
patience wherever they are. 

Miss N. I'll not believe it : this is but a shallow pretence 
to deny me. I know they're too valuable to be so slightly 
kept, and as you are to answer for the loss — 

Mrs. H. Don't be alarmed, Constance. If they be lost, 
I must restore an equivalent. But my son knows they're 
missing and not to be found. 

Tony. That I can bear witness to. They are missing, 
and not to be found, I'll take my oath on't. Besides, what's 
the odds ? Mother's got to give the equil-phant. 

Mrs. H. You must learn resignation, my dear ; for though 
we lose our fortune, yet we should not lose our patience. 
See me, how calm I am. 

Tony. Yes, see how calm I am. 

Miss N. Ay, people are generally calm at the misfortunes 
of others. 

Mrs. H. Now, I wonder a girl of your good sense should 
waste a thought upon such trumpery. We shall soon find 
them, and in the meantime you shall make use of my garnets 
till your jewels be found. 

Miss N. I detest garnets. 

Mrs. H. The most becoming things in the world to set 
off a clear complexion. You have often seen how well they 
looked upon me. You shall have them. 

Exit r. 2 E. 

Miss N. I dislike them of all thino:s. You sha'n't stir. 



SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER. 45 

Was ever anything so provoking — to mislay my own jewels, 
and force me to wear trumpery ! 

Tony (c). Don't be a fool. If she gives you the garnets, 
take what you can get. The jewels are your own already. 
I have stolen them out of her bureau, and she does not know- 
it. Fly to your spark, he'll tell you more of the matter. 
Leave me to manage her. 

Miss N. {comes down to l. of Tony /;/ surprise). My dear 
cousin ! (Mrs. Hardcastle screajjis r. 2 e.) 

Tony. Vanish. She's here, and has missed them already. 
Zounds! how she fidgets and spits about like a Catharine 
wheel. 

Exit Miss Neville, l. 2 e. 

Enter Mrs. Hardcastle, r. 2 e. 

Mrs. H. Confusion ! thieves ! robbers ! We are cheated, 
plundered, broke open, undone. (At c, 7vriiiging ker kcvids.) 

Tony (r.). What's the matter, what's the matter, mamma ? 
I hope nothing has happened to any of the good family.? 

Mrs. H. We are robbed. My bureau has been broke 
open, the jewels taken out, and I'm undone. 

Tony. Oh ! is that all ? Ha ! ha ! ha ! By the laws, I 
never saw it better acted in my life. Ecod, I thought you 
was ruined in earnest, ha ! ha ! ha ! 

Mrs. H. Why, boy, I am ruined in earnest. My bureau 
has been broke open, and all taken away. 

Tony. Stick to that ; ha ! ha ! ha ! stick to that ; I'll bear 
witness, you know ; call me to bear witness. 

Mrs. H. I tell you, Tony, by all that's precious, the 
jewels are gone, and I shall be ruined forever. 

Tony. Sure I know they're gone, and I am to say so. 

Mrs. H. My dearest Tony, but hear me. They're gone, 
I say. 

Tony. By the laws, mamma, you make me for to laugh, 
ha ! ha ! I know who took them well enough, ha ! ha ! ha ! 

Mrs. H. (r. c). Was there ever such a blockhead, that 
can't tell the difference between jest and earnest. I tell you 
I'm not in jest, booby. (Shakmg him.) 

Tony. That's right, that's right ; you must be in a bitter 
passion, and then nobody will suspect either of us. I'll bear 
v/itness that they are gone. {Breaks mvay to l. c.) 

Mrs. H. Was there ever such a cross-grained brute, that 
won't hear me .'* Can you bear witness that you're no better 



46 SHE STOOPS TO COXQUER, 

than a fool ? Was ever poor woman so beset with fools on 
the one hand, and thieves on the other ! 
Tony. I can bear witness to that. 

Mrs. H. Bear witness again, you blockhead you, and I'll 
turn you out of the room directly. My poor niece, what will 
become of her ? (Tony laughs}) Do you laugh, you unfeel- 
ing brute, as if you enjoyed my distress .'' 
Tony. I can bear witness to that. 

Mrs. H. Do you insult me, monster ? I'll teach you to 
vex your mother, I will. Here, thieves, thieves, thieves, 
thieves ! 

{Rims at Tony, who dodges he?-, rwniing ?-oiind the 
fur?iiture, and finally off r. 2 E. ; Mrs. Hard- 
castle, following him, piffing ajid blowing^ 

Exeunt both, r. 2 e. 

Enter Miss Hardcastle and Maid, l. 2 e. 

Miss H. (c). What an unaccountable creature is that 
brother of mine, to send them to the house as an inn. Ha ! 
ha ! I don't wonder at his impudence. 

Maid (l.). But what is more, madam, the young gentle- 
man, as you passed by in your present dress, asked me if 
you were the bar-maid .'' He mistook you for a bar-maid, 
madam. 

Miss H. Did he ? Then, as I live, I'm resolved to keep 
up the delusion. Tell me, Dolly, how do you like my present 
dress ? 

Maid. It's the dress, madam, that every lady wears in 
the country but when she visits or receives company. 

Miss H. And are you sure he does not remember my 
face or person ? 

Maid. Certain of it. 

Miss H. I vow I thought so ; for though we spoke for 
some time together, yet his fears were such that he never 
once looked up during the interview. 

Maid. But what do you hope for from keeping him in 
his mistake ? 

Miss H. In the first place, I shall be seen, and that is 
no small advantage to a girl who brings her face to market. 
But my chief aim is to take my gentleman off his guard, and, 
like an invincible champion of romance, examine the giant's 
force before 1 offer to combat. 

Maid. But are you sure you can act your part, and dis- 



SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER. 4/ 

guise your voice so that he may mistake that, as he has al- 
ready mistaken your person ? 

Miss H. Never fear me. I think I have got the true bar 
cant. {Business of mimicking bar-7naid''s i)ia7iner.) Did your 
honor call ? Attend the Lion, there ! Pipes and tobacco 
for the Angel ! The Lamb has been outrageous this half 
hour. 

Maid. It will do, madam. But he's here. 

Exit L. 2 E. 

Enter Marlow, r. 2 e. 

Mar. (r.). What a bawling in every part of the house ! 
I have scarce a moment's repose. If I go to the best room, 
there I find my host and his story. If I fly to the gallery, 
there we have my hostess with her curtsey down to the 
ground. I have at last got a moment to myself, and now 
for recollection. {Walks to a7id fro r. to c, and muses ^ 

Miss H. (l.). Did you call, sir.? Did your honor call ? 

Mar. {7?iusing). As for Miss Hardcastle, she's too grave 
and sentimental for me. 

Miss H. Did your honor call ? 

(She places herself btfore hi?n, curtseying., he tur7i- 
i7ig azvay^ 

Mar. No, child. {Musi7ig.) Besides, from the glimpse 
I had of her, I think she squints. 

Miss H. I am sure, sir, I heard the bell ring. 

Mar. No, no. {Musi7ig.) I have pleased my father, 
however, by coming down, and V\\ to-morrow please myself 
by returning. {Taki7ig out his tablets atid perusing the7n.) 

Miss H. Perhaps the other gentleman called, sir? 

Mar. No, no, I tell you. {Looks casually at her, then 
tur7is a7id looks her full in the face, iviih a pleased expressio7i.^ 
Yes, child, I think I did call. I wanted — I wanted — I vow, 
child, you are vastly handsome. 

Miss H. {curtseyi7ig at l.). Oh, la, sir, you'll make one 
ashamed. 

Mar. (c). Never saw a more sprightly malicious eye. 
Yes, yes, my dear, I did call. Have you got any of your — 
what d'ye call it, in the house ? 

Miss H. No, sir, we have been out of that these ten 
days. 

Mar. One may call in this house, I find, to very little 
purpose. Suppose I should call for a taste, just by way of 



48 SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER. 

trial, of the nectar of your lips ; perhaps I might be disap- 
pointed in that, too.- {Approaching Jier^ to l. c.) 

Miss H. (stepping back innoccjitly). Nectar! nectar! 
That's a liquor there's no call for in these parts. French, I 
suppose. We keep no French wines here, sir. 

Mar. Of true English growth, I assure you. 

Miss H. Then it's odd I should not know it. We brew 
all sorts of wines in this house, and I have lived here these 
eighteen years. 

Mar. Eighteen years ! Why one would think, child*, you 
kept the bar before you were born. How old are you 1 

Miss H. Oh, sir, I must not tell my age. They say 
women and music should never be dated. 

Mar. To guess at this distance you can't be much above 
forty. {ApproacJiing to L.) Yet nearer, I don't think so 
much. By coming close to some women they look younger 
still; but when we come very close indeed — 

{At L., attempting to kiss he?'^ 

Miss H. (evading him, crosses to r.). Pray, sir, keep your 
distance. One would think you wanted to know one's age 
as they do horses, by mark of mouth. 

Mar. (l.). I protest, child, you use me extremely ill. If 
you keep me at this distance, how is it possible you and I 
can be ever acquainted ? 

Miss H. And who wants to be acquainted with you ? I 
want no such acquaintance, not I. I'm sure you did not 
treat Miss Hardcastle in this obstropolous manner. I'll 
warrant me, before her you looked dashed, and kept bowing 
to the ground, and talked for all the world as if you were a 
justice of the peace. 

Mar. (aside). Egad ! she has hit it, sure enough. (To 
Miss Hardcastle.) In awe of her, child.? Ha! ha! ha! 
A mere awkward, squinting thing ; no, no, I find you don't 
know me. I laughed, and rallied her a little ; but I was un- 
willing to be too severe. No, I could not be too severe, 
curse me ! 

Miss H. Oh ! then, sir, you are a favorite, I find, among 
the ladies? 

Mar. (to c). Yes, my dear, a great favorite ; and yet, 
hang me, I don't see what they find in me to follow. At the 
ladies' club in town, I am called their agreeable Rattle. 
Rattle, child, is not my real, name, but one I'm known by. 
My name is Jenkins. Mr. Jenkins, my dear, at your service. 

(At R., offering to salute her.) 



SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER. 49 

Miss H. Hold, sir; you were introducing me to your 
club, not to yourself. And you're so great a favorite there 
you say? 

Mar. Yes, my dear. There's Mrs. Mantrap, Lady Betty 
Blackleg, the Countess of Cog, Mrs. Longhorns, old Miss 
Biddy Buckskin, and your humble servant, keep up the spirit 
of the place. 

WARN curtain^ 

Miss H. Then it's a very merry place, I suppose ? 

Mar. Yes, as merry as cards, suppers, wine, and old 
women can make us. 

Miss H. And their agreeable Rattle, ha! ha! ha! 

Mar. {aside). Egad ! I don't quite like this chit. She 
looks knowing, methinks. You laugh, child ? 

Miss H. I can't but laugh to think what time they all 
have for minding their work or their family. 

Mar. (aside). All's well, she don't laugh at me. {To 
Miss Hardcastle.) Do you ever work, child ? 

]\liss H. Ay, sure. There's not a screen or a quilt in the 
whole house but what can bear witness to that. 

Mar. Odso ! Then you must show me your embroidery. 
I embroider and draw patterns myself a little. If you want 
a judge of your work, you must apply to me. 

{Seizifig her hand.) 

Miss H. Ay, but the colors don't look well by candle- 
light. {Struggling.) 

RING curtain. 

(Marlow attempts to put his anns around her. 
She avoids him., and tries to escape r. 2 E. At 
that mojnent Hardcastle enters r. 2 e., just 
in time to get the enibrace i?itended for Miss 
Hardcastle. Hardcastle starts in sur- 
prise. Miss Hardcastle runs off laugfiing, 
R. 2 e. Marlow gives Hardcastle a7i im- 
pudent look, crosses to l. 2 e., and goes off'siftg- 
ing, ivith an air of co7iquest. Hardcastle is 
lost in amazement., if?iitates Marlow's strut 
and song, and then goes off in disgust, R. 2 E.) 

QUICK CURTAIN. 



50 SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER. 

ACT IV. 

Scene. — The same room in Hardcastle's house. 

READY broom and letter, 
and bunch of keys, L, 2 £• 

Enter Mava^ow, followed by ^.Servant, r. 2 e. 

Mar. (c). I wonder what Hastings could mean by send- 
ing me so valuable a thing as a casket to keep for him, when 
he knows the only place I have is the seat of a post-coach 
at an inn-door. Have you deposited the casket with the 
landlady, as I ordered you 1 Have you put it into her own 
hands ? 

Ser. (r.). Yes, your honor. 

Mar. She said she'd keep it safe, did she ? 

Ser. Yes, she said she'd keep it safe enough ; she asked 
me how I came by it, and she said she had a great mind to 
make me give an account of myself. 

Exit Servant, r. 2 e. 

Mar. Ha ! ha ! ha ! They're safe, however. What an 
unaccountable set of beings have we got amongst ! This 
little barmaid, though, runs in my head most strangely, and 
drives out the absurdities of all the rest of the family. She's 
mine — she must be mine, or I'm greatly mistaken. 

Enter Hastings, l. 2 e. 

Hast. (l.). Marlow here, and in spirits, too j 

Mar. (r.). Give me joy, George ! Crown me, shadow 
me with laurels ! Well, George, after all, we modest fellows 
don't want for success among the women. 

Hast. Some women you mean. But what success has 
your honor's modesty been crowned with now, that it grows 
so insolent upon us ? 

Mar. Didn't you see the tempting, brisk, lively little 
thing that runs about the house with a bunch of keys to its 
girdle ? 

Hast. Well, and what then ? 

Mar. She's mine, you rogue, you. Such fire, such mo- 



\ 



SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER. 5 1 



tion, such eyes, such lips — but, egad ! she would not let me 
kiss them, though. 

Hast. But how can you, Charles, go about to rob a 
woman of her honor .^ {Sits \..) 

Mar. {leanijig agai?ist table., r. c). Pshaw ! pshaw ! We 
all know the honor of a bar-maid of an inn. I don't intend 
to rob her, take my word for it ; there's nothing in this house 
I sha'n't honestly pay for. 

Hast. I believe the girl has virtue. 

Mar. And if she has, I should be the last man in the 
world that would attempt to corrupt it. 

Hast. You have taken care, I hope, of the casket I sent 
you to lock up ? Is it in safety ? 

Mar. Yes, yes ; it's safe enough. I have taken care of 
it. But how could you think the seat of a post-coach at an 
inn-door a place of safety 1 Ah, numbskull ! I have taken 
better precautions for you than you did for yourself — I 
have — 

Hast. What ? {RisiJig hurriedly, and crossing to c.) 

Mar. (to R.). I have sent it to the landlady to keep for you. 

Hast. To the landlady ? 

Mar. The landlady. 

Hast. You did ? 

Mar. I did. She's to De answerable for its forthcoming, 
you know. 

Hast. Yes, she'll bring it forth, with a witness. 

Mar. Wasn't I right ? I believe you'll allow that I acted 
prudently upon this occasion ? 

Hast, {aside). He must not see my uneasiness. 

Mar. You seem a little disconcerted though, methinks. 
Sure nothing has happened ? {Crosses to r. c.) 

Hast. No, nothing. Never was in better spirits in all 
my life. And so you left it with the landlady, who, no 
doubt, very readily undertook the charge 1 

Mar. Rather too readily. For she not only kept the 
casket, but through her great precaution, was going to keep 
the messenger too. Ha ! ha ! ha ! 

Hast. Ha ! ha ! ha ! They're safe, however. 

Mar. As a guinea in a miser's purse. 

Hast, {aside). So now all hopes of fortune are at an end, 
and we must set off without it. (To Marlow.) Well, 
Charles, I'll leave you to your meditations on the pretty bar- 
maid, and — ha ! ha ! ha ! — if you are as successful for your- 
self as you have been for me — 



52 SHE STOOPS TO COXQUER. 

Mar. What then ? 

Hast. Why, then, I wish you joy with all my heart. 

Exit L. 2 E. 

Mar. I could wish no better for myself. {Throws hlm~ 
self into arjnchair at R.) 

Enter Hardcastle, r. 2 e. 

Hard, {ilown r.). I no longer know my own house. It's 
turned all topsy-turvy. His servants have got drunk al- 
ready. I'll bear it no longer ; and yet, from my respect for 
his father, I'll be calm. (^To Marlow.) Mr. Marlow, your 
servant. I'm your very humble servant. {Bowing low.) 

Mar. Sir, your humble servant. {Aside.) What's to be 
the wonder now ? 

Hard. I believe, sir, you must be sensible, sir, that no 
man alive ought to be more welcome than your father's son, 
sir ; I hope you think so 1 

Mar. I do from my soul, sir. I don't want much en- 
treaty. I generally make my father's son welcome wher- 
ever he goes. 

Hard. I believe you do, from my soul, sir. But though 
I say nothing to your own conduct, that of your servants is 
insufferable. Their manner of drinking is setting a very bad 
example in this house, I assure you. 

Mar. I protest, my very good sir, that's no fault of mine. 
If they don't drink as they ought, they are to blame. I or- 
dered them not to spare the cellar. I did, I assure you. 
{Speaking off, -L. 2 E.) Here, let one of my servants come 
up. {To Hardcastle.) My positive directions were, that 
as I did not drink myself, they should make up for my de- 
ficiencies below. 

Hard. Then they had your orders for what they do ! 
I'm satisfied. {C^'osses to fireplace.) 

Mar. They had, I assure you. You shall hear from one 
of themselves. 

Enter Servant, drunk., l. 2 e. 

You, Jeremy, come forward, sirrah ! {He obeys.) What 
were my orders ? Were you not told to drink freely, and 
call for what you thought fit, for the good of the house ? 

Hard, {aside). I begin to lose my patience. 

Jer. Please, your honor, liberty and Fleet Street forever ! 



SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER. 53 

Though I am but a servant, I'm as good as another man. 
I'll drink for no man before supper, sir, dam'me ! Good 
liquor will sit upon a good supper, but a good supper will 
not sit upon — hiccup — upon my conscience, sir. 

Exit L. 2 E. 

Mar. You see, my old friend, the fellow is as drunk as 
he possibly can be ; I don't know what you'd have more, 
unless you'd have the poor devil soused in a beer-barrel. 

Hard. Zounds ! He'll drive me distracted if I contain 
myself any longer. {Do7iin l.) Mr. Marlow, sir, I have 
submitted to your insolence for more than four hours, and I 
see no likelihood of its coming to an end. I'm now resolved 
to be master here, sir, and I desire that you and your drunken 
pack may leave my house directly. 

Mar. Leave your house ? Sure you jest, my good friend ! 
What, when I'm doing what I can to please you .'* 

Hard. I tell you, sir, you don't please me ; so I desire 
you'll leave my house. 

Mar. Sure you cannot be serious 1 At this time of night, 
and such a night ! You only mean to banter me. 

Hard. I tell you, sir, I'm serious ; and now that my pas- 
sions are roused, I say this house is mine, sir, this house is 
mine, and I command you to leave it directly. 

Mar. Puddle in a storm ! I sha'n't stir a step, I assure 
you. (/;/ a serious to?ie.) This your house, fellow ! It's my 
house. This is my house. ]\Iine while I choose to stay. 
What right have you to bid me leave this house, sir? I 
never met with such impudence, curse me, never in my whole 
life before. 

Hard. Nor I, confound me if ever I did. To come to 
my house, to call for what he likes, to turn me out of my 
own chair, to insult the family, to order his servants to get 
drunk, and then to tell me, '' this house is mine, sir." By all 
that's impudent, it makes me laugh. Ha ! ha ! ha ! Pray, 
sir (J)a?iterifig), as you take the house, what think you of tak- 
ing the rest of the furniture .? There's a pair of silver can- 
dlesticks, and there are a set of prints, too. What think you 
of "The Rake's Progress" for your own apartment? 

Mar. Bring me your bill, I say, and I'll leave you and 
your infernal house directly. {Rising a?igfily.) 

Hard. (c). Then there's a brass warming-pan, and a 
mahogany table that you may see your own brazen face in. 



54 SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER. 

Mar. My bill, I say. 

Hard. I had forgot the great chair, for your own partic- 
ular slumbers, after a hearty meal. 

Mar. Zounds ! Bring me my bill, I say, and let's hear 
no more on't. 

Hard. Young man, young man {changing fro7)i passion 
to quiet dignity')^ from your father's letter to me, 1 was taught 
to expect a well-bred modest man, as a visitor here, but now 
I find him no better than a coxcomb and a bully ; but your 
father will be down here presently, and shall hear more of it. 



Exit 



R. 2 E. 



Mar. {looking after him^ perplexed). How's this ! Sure 
I've not mistaken the house ! Everything looks like an inn. 
The servants cry " Coming." The attendance is awkward ; 
the bar-maid, too, to attend us. But she's here, and will 
further inform me. 

Enter Miss Hardcastle, l. 2 e., crossing to r. 

Whither so fast, child t A word with you. 

Miss H. Let it be short, then. I'm in a hurry. 

Mar. {leaning against table r. c). Pray, child, answer me 
one question. What are you, and what may your business 
in this house be .'* 

Miss H. (c). A relation of the family, sir. 

Mar. What'! A poor relation ? 

Miss H. Yes, sir. A poor relation appointed to keep 
the keys, and to see that the guests want nothing in my 
power to give them. 

Mar. That is, you act as the bar-maid of this inn ? 

Miss H. Inn ! Oh, law ! What brought that in your 
head t One of the best families in the county keep an inn ! 
Ha ! ha ! ha ! Old Mr. Hardcastle's house an inn ! 

Mar. Mr. Hardcastle's house ! Is this house Mr. Hard- 
castle's house, child ? 

Miss H. Ay, sure. Whose else should it be ? 

Mar. So, then, all's out, and I have been damnably im- 
posed on. Oh, confound my stupid head ! I shall be 
laughed at over the whole town. To mistake this house of 
all others for an" inn, and my father's old friend for an inn- 
keeper. What a swaggering puppy must he take me for. 
What a silly puppy do I find myself. There again, may I be 
hanged, my dear, but I mistook you for the bar-maid. 



SHE STOOPS TO COiVQUER. 55 

Miss H. Dear me ! dear me ! I'm sure there's nothing in 
my behavior to put me upon a level with one of that stamp. 

Mar. Nothing, my dear, nothing. But I was in for a 
Hst of blunders, and could not help making you a sub- 
scriber. My stupidity saw everything the wrong way. i 
mistook your assiduity for assurance, and your simplicity for 
allurement. But it's over — this house I no more show my 
face in. 

Miss H. I hope, sir, I have done nothing to disoblige 
you. I'm sure I should be sorry to affront any gentleman 
who has been so polite, and said so many civil things to me. 
I'm sure I should be sorry {pretending to cry), if he left the 
family upon my account. I'm sure I should be sorry people 
said anything amiss, since I have no fortune but my 
character. 

Mar. (aside). By heaven, she weeps! This is the first 
mark of tenderness I ever had from a modest woman, and it 
touches me. 

Miss H. But I'm sure my family is a3 good as Miss 
Hardcastle's, and though I'm poor, that's no great misfor- 
tune to a contented mind; and until this moment, I never 
thought that it was bad to want fortune. 

Mar. And why now, ray pretty simplicity ? 

Miss H. Because it puts me at a distance from one, that 
if I had a thousand pound, I w^ould give it all to. 

Mar. (aside). This simplicity bewitches me so, that if I 
stay I'm undone. I must make one bold effort, and leave 
her. (To her.) Your partiality in my favor, my dear, 
touches me most sensibly ; and were I to live for myself 
alone, I could easily fix my choice. But to be plain with 
you, the difference of our birth, fortune, and education, makes 
an honorable connection impossible ; and I can never harbor 
a thought of seducing simplicity, that trusted in my honor, 
or bringing ruin upon one whose only fault was being too 
lovely. 

Exit R. 2 E. 

Miss H. Generous man ! I never knew half his merit 
till now. He shall not go, if I have power or art to detain 
him. I'll still preserve the character in which I stooped to 
conquer, but will undeceive my papa, who, perhaps, may 
laugh him out of his resolution. 

Exit L. 2 E. 



56 SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER. 

Enter Tony ami Miss Neville, z.from r. 

Tony {down c). Ay, you may steal for yourselves the 
next time ; I have done my duty. She has got the jewels 
again, that's a sure thing ; but she believes it was all a mis- 
take of the servants. 

Miss N. {doimi l. c). But, my dear cousin, sure you 
won't forsake us in this distress. If she in the least sus- 
pects that I am going off, I shall certainly be locked up, or 
sent to my aunt Pedigree's, which is ten times worse. 

Tony. To be sure, aunts of all kinds are damned bad 
things. But what can I do? I have got you a pair of 
horses that will fly like whistlejacket, and I'm sure you can't 
say but I've courted you nicely before her face. Here she 
comes. (Jll-iiaturedly^ I suppose I must make love to you 
again, {lliey retire up stage to fireplace, and play at cat^s- 
cradle. Miss Neville j//j. Touy gets very 7nucii excited, and 
cries) Candles ! Candles ! 

Enter Mrs. Hardcastle, r. 2 e. 

Mrs. H. {down c). Well, I was greatly fluttered, to be 
sure. But my son tells me it was all a mistake of the ser- 
vants. I sha'n't be easy, however, till they are fairly mar- 
ried, and then let her keep her own fortune. {Turns to l., 
a7id sees Miss Neville and Tony.) But what do I see ? 
Fondling together, as I'm alive! I never saw Tony so 
sprightly before. Ah ! have I caught you, my pretty doves ! 
What, billing, exchanging stolen glances, and broken mur- 
murs, ah ! 

Tony. As for murmurs, mother, we grumble a little now 
and then, to be sure. But there's no love lost between us. 

Mrs. H. a mere sprinkling, Tony, upon the flame, only 
to make it bum brighter. 

Miss N. Cousin Tony promises to give us more of his 
company at home. Indeed he sha'n't leave us any more. 
It won't leave us, cousin Tony, will it t 

{Pretending to emh7'ace /ii?n.) 

Tony. Oh, it's a pretty creature. No, I'd sooner leave my 
horse in a pound, than leave you when you smile upon one 
so. Your laugh makes you so becoming. {Making a face.) 

Mxss N. Agreeable cousin 1 Who can help admiring that 
natural humor, that pleasant, broad, red, thoughtless — 
{Fatting his c/ieek.) Ah, it's a bold face. 

Mrs. H. Pretty innocence ! 



SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER. 5/ 

Tony. I'm sure I always loved cousin Con's hazel eyes, 
and her pretty long fingers, that she twists this way and 
that, over the haspicholls, like a parcel of bobbins. 

Mrs. H. Ah, he would charm the bird from the tree. I 
never was so happy before. My boy takes after his father, 
poor Mr. Lumpkin, exactly. The jewels, my dear Con, shall 
be yours incontinently. You shall have them. Isn't he a 
sweet boy, my dear.'' You shall be married to-morrow, and 
we'll put ofl the rest of his education, like Dr. Drowsey's 
sermons, till a fitter opportunity. {Crosses l.) 

Enter Diggory, l. 2 e., carrying a stable broom like a musket^ 
at " shoulder armsT A letter is stuck in the end of the 
br 007ns tick. 

Dig. (jnaf'ching roimd the room^ chanting^. Where's the 
Squire? I have got a letter for your worship. 

{Prcse7its h'tter^ as if shooting hini^ 

Tony. Give it to my mamma. She reads all my letters 
first. 

Dig. I had orders to deliver it into your own hands. 

Tony. Who does it come from ? 

Dig. Your worship mun ask that of the letter itself. 
Right about face ! {Executes order.) 

Tony (c). Double quick march ! (Kicks Diggory to 
exit at L. 2 E.) I could wish to know, though. 

{2\irning the letter and gazing on it^ 

Miss N. {rising hastily. Aside). Undone, undone ! A 
letter to him from Hastings. I know the hand. If my aunt 
sees it, we are ruined forever. I'll keep her employed a 
little if I can. {Down l. ^Mrs. Hardcastle; aloud.) But 
I have not told you, madam, of my cousin's smart answer just 
now to Mr. Marlow. We so laughed. You must know, 
madam — this way a little, for he must not hear us. 

{Tryifig to engage Mrs. Hardcastle's attentiofz 
and keep -Jier back to Tony. They whisper to- 
gether?) 

Tony (still gazing). A damned cramp piece of penman- 
ship as ever I saw in my life. I can read your print hand 
very well. But here there are such handles, and shnnks, 
and dashes, that one can scarce tell the head from the tail. 
"To Anthony Lumpkin, Esquire." It's very odd, I can read 
the outside of my letters, where my own name is, well 
enough. But when I come to open it, it's all — buzz. That's 



58 SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER. 

hard, very hard ; for the inside of the letter is always the 
cream of the correspondence. 

Mrs. H. {Iaughi7ig at Miss Neville's narrative). Ha ! ha ! 
ha ! Very well, very well. And so my son was too hard 
for the philosopher .? 

Miss N. {lirawing Mrs. Hardcastle up stage and watch- 
ing Tony anxiously^). Yes, madam ; but you must hear the 
rest, madam. A little more this way, or he may hear us. 
You'll hear how he puzzled him again. 

Mrs. H. {ivith an eye on Tony). He seems strangely 
puzzled now himself, methinks. 

Tony {still gazing). A damned up-and-down hand, as if 
it was disguised in liquor. (^Reading.) "D — R — " that 
stands for doctor. Then there's an S and a Q — oh — S — 
q — u — i — r — t — oh. Doctor Squirt. Ay, that's that. 
Then there's an M, and a T, and an S, but whether the next 
fellow be an izzard or an R, confound me, if I can tell. 

Mrs. H. {coining forward., L.). What's that, my dear? Can 
I give you any assistance 1 

Miss N. {following^ l. q,.., getting between Mrs. Hardcastle 
and Tony). Pray, aunt, let me read it. Nobody reads a 
cramp hand better than I. {Twitching the letter from hiin.) 
Do you know who it is from .? 

Tony. Can't tell, except from Dick Ginger, the feeder. 

Miss N. Ay, so it is. {Pretending to read.) " Dear 
Squire. Hoping that you're in health, as I am at this 
present. The gentlemen of the Shake-bag club has cut 
the gentlemen of the Goose-green quite out of feather. 
The odds — um — odd battle — um — long fighting — um." 
Here, here, it's all about cocks and fightings; it's of no 
consequence — here, put it up, put it up. 

{Thrusting the crumpled letter upon him.) 

Tony. But I tell you, miss, it's of all the consequence in 

the world. I would not lose the rest of it for a guinea. 

Here, mother, do you make it out. Of no consequence ! 

{Giving Mrs. Hardcastle the letter ; she comes r. c.) 

Mrs. H. {reading). How's this .'* 

Tony (c, to Miss Neville, l. c, who pinches him in dis- 
gust). There, you never said a word about " How's this ? " 

Mrs. H. {reading). "Dear Squire." 

Tony. Oh, I thought that was Doctor Squirt. 

{Looki?ig 07'er.) 

Mrs. H. {reading). " I am now waiting for Miss Neville, 



SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER. 59 

with a post-chaise and pair, at the bottom of the garden, 
but I find my horses yet unable to perform the journey. I 
expect you'll assist us with a pair of fresh horses, as you 
promised. Despatch is necessary, as the hag " — 

Tony {jLuith glee). That's you ! 

Mrs. H. (Jiittrng To't^Y a 7'ap on the head with her fan hefo7'e 
continuing). Ay, the hag, "your mother, will otherwise sus- 
pect us. Yours, Hastings." 
(^Angrily') Grant me patience ! I shall run distracted ! My 
rage chokes me ! 

Miss N. I hope, madam, you'll suspend your resentment 
for a few moments, and not impute to me any impertinence 
or sinister design that belongs to another. 

Mrs. H. {curtseyifig very low). Fine spoken madam, you 
are most miraculously polite and engaging, and quite the 
very pink of courtesy and circumspection, madam ! 

(Changing her tone, she goes toward Tony. He 
retreats. She strikes him on the head with her 
fan.) 

Tony {tafitalizmgly). "The old hag — your mother." 
{Sta?ids with his month wide open, laughing.) 

Mrs. H. (to Tony). And you, you great ill-fashioned oaf, 
with scarce sense enough to keep your mouth shut (Tony 
shuts his mouth suddenly'), were you, too, joined against me ? 
But I'll defeat all your plots in a moment. {To Miss Nev- 
ille.) As for you, madam, since you have got a pair of 
fresh horses ready, it would be cruel to disappoint them. 
So, if you please, instead of running away with your spark, 
prepare, this very moment, to run off with me. Your old 
aunt Pedigree will keep you secure, I'll warrant me. You, 
too, sir, may mount 3^our horse, and guard us upon the way. 
Here, Thomas, Roger, Diggory ! I'll show you that I wish 
you better than you do yourselves. 

Exit R. 2 E. 

Miss N. {walking excitedly up a?id down, l. /'<? r.). So now 
I'm completely ruined. 

Tony. Ay, that's a sure thing. (Follozviiig her ; at r.) 

Miss N. What better could be expected from being con- 
nected with such a stupid fool, and after all the nods and 
signs I made him ! {Crosses to L.) 

Tony. By the laws, miss, it was your own cleverness, 
and not my stupidity, that did your business. You were so 



6o SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER. 

nice and so busy with your Shake-bags, and Goose-greens, 
that I thought you could never be making believe. 

Enter Hastings, l. 2 e. 

Hast. (l. c). So, sir, I find by my servant, that you have 
shown my letter and betrayed us. Was this well done, 
young gentleman .? 

Tony (r. c). Here's another. Ask miss there who be- 
trayed you. Ecod, it was her doing, not mine. 

Enter Marlow, r. 2 e. 

Mar. (r.). So, I have been finely used here among you. 
Rendered contemptible, driven into ill-manners, despised, 
insulted, laughed at. 

Tony. Here's another. We shall have old Bedlam broke 
loose presently. 

Miss N. (l.). And there, sir, is the gentleman to whom 
we all owe every obligation. 

Mar. What can I say to him, a mere booby, an idiot, 
whose ignorance and age are a protection. 

(Tony is looking off l. Marlow takes him by the 
arm a?id turns him round r.) 

Hast. A poor, contemptible booby, that would but dis- 
grace correction. {Turns hitn round \.^ 

Miss N. Yet with cunning and malice enough to make 
himself merry with all our embarrassments. 

{2ur7is him round r.) 

Hast. An insensible cub ! {Tu??is him l.) 

Mar. Replete with tricks and mischief. {Turns him r.) 

Tony. Baw ! dam'me, but I'll fight you both, one after 
the other {sparring ; as they fa ee him he drops his fists a7id 
adds) — with baskets. 

{Goes up., and sits at table with his head in his arms.) 

Mar. As for him, he's below resentment. But your con- 
duct, Mr. Hastings, requires an explanation. You knew of 
my mistakes, yet would not undeceive me. 

Hast. Tortured as I am with my own disappointments, is 
this a time for explanations ? It is not friendly, Mr. Marlow. 

Mar. But, sir — 

Miss N. Mr. Marlow, we never kept on your mistake, 
till it was too late to undeceive you. Be pacified. 

WARN curtain* 



SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER. 6 1 

Mrs. H. (ivifhi/i, a^ r.). Miss Neville, Constance — why, 
Constance, I say. 

Miss N. I'm coming. Well, constancy. Remember, 
constancy is the word. 

Exit R. 2 E. 

Mar. (r. c, fo Tony). You see now, young gentleman, the 
effects of your folly. (Tony, /iis face 07i the table., waves his 
hands aJteniately to Hastings and Marlow to pacify the?n.) 
What might be amusement to you, is here disappointment, 
and even distress. 

Tony (bangs with his hands on the table as if struck by an 
idea. Gets up^ comes doivn stage, c, takes each by the hajid). 
Ecod, I have hit it. It's here. 'Your hands. Yours, and 
yours, my poor Sulky. My boots there, ho ! Meet me two 
hours hence at the bottom of the garden ; and if you don't 
find Tony Lumpkin a more good-natured fellow than you 
thought for. Til give you leave to take my best horse, and 
Bet Bouncer into the bargain. 

{Flitting an ai-vi through Hastings's ai-m on one 
side and Marlow's on the other, goes with 
them toivard L. 2 e., singing.) 

RING curtain* 

*' For we are three jolly good fellows 
Which nobody can deny 
Which nobody can deny." 

Exeunt r. 
QUICK CURTAIN. 



62 SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER. 

ACT V. 
Scene 1 . — Landscape in fijst grooves. 

LIGHTS three-quarters down* 
Enter Hastings, r. i e. 

Hast, (r. c.y. What an idiot am I to wait here for a fellow 
who probably takes a delight in mortifying me. He never 
intended to be punctual, and I'll wait no longer. What do I 
see ? It is he, and perhaps with news of my Constance ! 

Enter Tony, booted and spattered^ l. i e. 

My honest Squire ! I now find you a man of your word. 
This looks like friendship. 

Tony. (l. c). Ay, I'm your friend, and the best friend you 
have in the world, if you knew but all. This riding by night, 
by-the-by, is cursedly tiresome. It has shook me worse than 
the basket of a stage-coach. 

Hast. Well, but where have you left the ladies ? I die 
with impatience. 

Tony. Left them ? Why, where should I leave them, but 
where I found them 1 

Hast. This is a riddle. 

Tony. Riddle me this, then. What's that goes round the 
house, and round the house, and never touches the house ? 

Hard. I'm still astray. 

Tony. Why, that's it, mun. I have led them astray. 
By jingo, there's not a pond or slough within five miles of 
the place but they can tell the taste of. 

Hast. Ha ! ha ! ha ! I understand ; you took them in a 
round, while they supposed themselves going forward. And 
so you have at last brought them home again. 

Tony. You shall hear. I first took them down Feather- 
bed-lane, where we stuck fast in the mud. I then rattled 
them crack over the stones of Up-and-down-hill — I then in- 
troduced them to the gibbet on Crackskull Common, and 
from that, with a circumbendibus, I fairly lodged them in the 
horse-pond at the bottom of the garden. 

Hast. But no accident, I hope? 

Tony. No, no; only mother is confoundedly frightened. 
She thinks herself forty miles off. She's sick of the journey, 



SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER. 63 

and the cattle can scarce crawl. So if your own horses be 
ready, you may whip off with cousin, and I'll be bound that 
no soul here can budge an inch to follow you. 

Hast, {crosses l.). My dear friend, how can I be grateful ? 

Tony ic7-osses r.). Ay, now it's dear friend, noble Squire. 
Just now, it was all idiot, cub, and run me through the gizzard. 
Damn your way of fighting, I say. After we take a knock in 
this part of the country, we kiss and be friends. But if you 
had run me through the gizzard, then I should be dead, and 
you might go shake hands with the hangman. 

Hast. The rebuke is just. But I must hasten to relieve 
Miss Neville ; if you keep the old lady employed, I promise 
to take care of the young one. 

{Starts to go off ^ I.. \ E. Sees Mrs. Hardcastle 
approachmg. Hides behi?id tree at l. until she 
is 071, then exit hastily l. 1 e.) 

Tony. Never fear me. Here she comes. Vanish. She's 
got from the pond, and draggled up to the waist like a mer- 
maid. 

Enter Mrs. Hardcastle, l. i e. 

Mrs. H. (l.). O Tony, I'm killed. Shook, battered to 
death. I shall never survive it. That last jolt has done my 
business. 

Tony (r.). Alack, mamma, it was all your own fault. You 
would be for running away by night, without knowing one 
inch of the way. 

Mrs. H. I wish we were at home again. I never met so 
many accidents in so short a journey. Drenched in the mud, 
overturned in a ditch, stuck fast in a slough, jolted to a jelly, 
and at last to lose our way ! Whereabouts do you think we 
are, Tony 1 

Tony. By my guess we should be upon Heavytree Heath, 
about forty miles from home. 

Mrs. H. Oh, lud ! Oh, lud ! the most notorious spot in 
all the country. We only want a robbery to make a com- 
plete night on't. 

Tony. Don't be afraid, mamma, don't be afraid. Two of 
the five that kept here are hanged, and the other three may 
not find us. Don't be afraid. Is that a man that's galloping 
behind us? {Points ^ l. i e. ; Mrs. Hardcastle tenified^ 
No ; it's only a tree. Don't be afraid. 

Mrs. H. The fright will certainly kill me. 



64 SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER. 

ToNV. Do you see anything like a black hat moving be« 
hind the thicket ? {Points r. i e.) 

Mrs. H. {frightened). Oh, death ! 

Tony. No ; it's only a cow. Don't be afraid, mother, 
don't be afraid. 

Mrs. H. As I'm alive, Tony, I see a man coming towards 
us. Ah ! I'm sure on't. If he perceives us, we are un- 
done. 

Tony (aside). Father-in-law, by all that's unlucky, come 
to take one of his night walks ! {To her.) Ah, it's a high- 
wayman, with pistols as long as my leg. A damned ill-look- 
ing fellow. 

Mrs. H. Good Heaven defend us ! He approaches. 

Tony. Do you hide yourself in that thicket, and leave 
me to manage him. If there be any danger, I'll cough and 
cry " hem." When I cough be sure to keep close. 

(Mrs. Hardcastle hides behind a tree at l. i j:.) 

Enter Hardcastle, r. i e. 

Hard. (r. c). I'm mistaken, or I heard voices of people in 
want of help. O Tony, is that you ? I did not expect you 
so soon back. Are your mother and her charge in safety ? 

Tony (l. c). Very safe, sir, at my aunt Pedigree's. Hem. 

Mrs. H. {front behind). Ah, death ! I find there's dan- 
ger. 

Hard. Forty miles in three hours ! Sure that's too much, 
my youngster. 

Tony. Stout horses and willing minds make short jour- 
neys, as they say. Hem. 

Mrs. H. {from behind). Sure he'll do the dear boy no 
harm ! 

Hard. But I heard a voice here ; I should be glad to 
know from whence it came. 

Tony. It was I, sir, talking to myself, sir. I was saying 
that forty miles in three hours was very good going. Hem. 
As to be sure it was. Hem. I have got a sort of cold by 
being out in the air. We'll go in, if you please. Hem. 

(Crosses r.) 

Hard. But if you talked to yourself, you did not answer 
yourself. I am certain I heard two voices, and am resolved 
{raising his voice) to find the other out. 

Mrs. H. {7-7m7iing forward from behind). Oh, lud, he'll 
murder my poor boy, my darling. Here, good gentleman, 



SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER. 65 

whet your rage upon me. Take my money, my life, but spare 
that young gentleman, spare my child, if you have any mercy. 

Hard. (c.). My wife, as I'm a Christian ! From whence 
can she come, and what does she mean .? 

Mrs. H. {kneeli/ig, l. c). Take compassion on us, good Mr. 
Highwayman ! Take our money, our watches, all we have, 
but spare our lives. We will never bring you to justice, in- 
deed we won't, good Mr. Highwayman. 

Hard. I believe the woman's out of her senses. What, 
Dorothy, don't you know me ? Your own doodly de dumpty. 

Mrs. H. I\Ir. Hardcastle, as I'm alive! 

(Hardcastle kneels doivn iji f?-ont of her ^ and tries 
to took into her face. Her big hood fails over 
both their heads?) 

Tony. Have you got room for another inside there ? 

Mrs. H. {as Mr. Hardcastle I'ises and helps her to her 
feet). My fears blinded me. But who, my dear, could have 
expected to meet you here, in this frightful place, so far 
from home? What has brought you to follow us ? 

READY to changfe set* 

Hard. Sure, Dorothy, you have not lost your wits ? So 
far from home, when you are within forty yards of your own 
door.? {To Tony.) This is one of your old tricks, you 
graceless rogue, you. {2b Mrs. Hardcastle.) Don't you 
know the gate and the mulberry-tree — and don't you re- 
member the horse-pond, my dear .? 

Mrs. H. Yes, I shall remember the horse-pond as long as 
I live; I have caught my death in it. {To Tony.) And is 
it to you, you graceless varlet, I owe all this ? I'll teach you 
to abuse your mother, I will. {Beating him.) 

Tony. Ecod, mother, all the parish says you have spoiled 
me, and so you may take the fruits on't. 

Mrs. H. I'll spoil you, I will. 

{Follows him off the stage still beating him.) 

Exeunt all, r. i e. 

CHANGE set* 



66 SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER. 

Scene II. — Room in Hardcastle's house^ as before. 
Screen by fireplace^ L. 

LIGHTS full up. 

Enter Sir Charles Marlow and Miss Hardcastle, c. 

from L. 

Sir C. (r.). What a situation am I in ! If what you say- 
appears, 1 shall then find a guilty son. If what he says be 
true, I shall then lose one that, of all others, I most wished 
for a daughter. 

Miss H. (l.). I am proud of your approbation, and to 
show I merit it, if you will conceal yourselves behind that 
screen, you shall hear his explicit declaration. But he comes. 

Sir C. I'll to your father, and keep him to the appoint- 
ment. 

Exit c. to L. 

Enter Marlow, r. 2 e. 

Mar. {meets Miss Hardcastle at c). Though prepared 
for setting out, 1 come once more to take leave ; nor did I, 
till this moment, know the pain I feel in the separation. 

Miss H. {in her own natural manner). I believe these 
sufferings cannot be very great, sir, which you can so easily 
remove. A day or two longer, perhaps, might lessen your 
uneasiness, by showing the little value of what you now 
think proper to regret. 

Mar. {aside). This girl every moment improves upon me. 
{Aloud.) It must not be, madam. I have already trifled » 
too long with my heart. My very pride begins to submit to ^ 
my passion ; and nothing can restore me to myself, but this ^ 
painful effort of resolution. 

Miss H. Then go, sir. I'll urge nothing more to detain 
you. Though my family be as good as hers you came down 
to visit, and my education, I hope, not inferior, what are 
these advantages without equal affluence ? I must remain 
contented with the slight approbation of imputed merit ; I 
must have only the mockery of your addresses, while all 
your serious aims are fixed on fortune. 

Enter Hardcastle ajid Sir Charles Marlow, c. from l., 
and pass behiiid screen. 

Mar. By Heavens, madam, fortune was ever my smallest 
consideration. Your beauty at first caught my eye; for who 



SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER. 6/ 

could see that without emotion ? But every moment that I 
converse with you, steals in some new grace, heightens the 
picture, and gives it stronger expression. What at first 
seemed rustic plainness, now appears refined simplicity. 
What seemed forward assurance, now strikes me as the re- 
sult of courageous innocence and conscious virtue. I am 
now determined to stay, madam, and I have too good an 
opinion of my father's discernment, when he sees you, to 
doubt his approbation. 

Miss H. No, Mr. Marlow ; I will not, cannot detain you. 
Do you think I could suffer a connection in which there is 
the smallest room for repentance 1 Do you think I would 
take the mean advantage of a transient passion to load you 
with confusion ? Do you think I could ever relish that hap- 
piness which was acquired by lessening yours } Do you 
think I could ever catch at the confident addresses of a 
secure admirer .? 

Mar. {kneeling). Does this look like security t Does this 
look like confidence.? No, madam, every moment that 
shows me your merit, only serves to increase my diffidence 
and confusion. Here let me continue — 

Sir C. {emerging from l. of screen). I can hold it no 
longer. Charles, Charles, how hast thou deceived me ! Is 
this your indifference, your uninteresting conversation ? 

{Comes down l.) 

Hard, {einerging from r. of screeii). Your cold contempt; 
your formal interview ? What have you to say now } 

{Comes dourn r.) 

Mar. That I'm all amazement! What can it mean? 

{Rising) 

Hard. It means that you can say and unsay things at 
pleasure ; that you can address a lady in private, and deny 
it in public ; that you have one story for us, and another for 
my daughter. 

Mar. Daughter ! — this lady your daughter ! 

Hard. Yes, sir, my only daughter. She isn't yours, is 
she ? My Kate ; whose else could she be t 

Mar. {aside). Oh, the devil ! 

Miss H. Yes, sir, that very identical tall, squinting lady 
you were pleased to take me for. {Curtseying.) She that 
you addressed as the mild, modest, sentimental man of 
gravity, and the bold, forward, agreeable Rattle of the 
ladies' club ; ha ! ha ! ha ! 



68 SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER. 

Mar. Zounds ! There's no bearing this ; it's worse than 
death. {Pacing to and fro in his agitation^ 

Miss H. (l. c, chaffing him). In whicli of your characters, 
sir, will you give us leave to address you } As the faltering 
gentleman with looks on the ground, that speaks just to be 
heard, and hates hypocrisy; or the loud, confident creature 
that keeps it up with Mrs. Mantrap and old Mrs. Biddy 
Buckskin till three in the morning ; ha! ha ! ha ! 

Mar. (r. c). Oh, curses on my noisy head! I never at- 
tempted to be impudent yet that I was not taken down. I 
must be gone. (^Starts for r. 2 e.) 

Hard, (^preventing him, and bringing him dozvn stage). By 
the hand of my body, but you shall not. I see it was all a 
mistake, and I rejoiced to find it. You shall not, sir, I tell 
you. I know she'll forgive you. .Won't you forgive him, 
Kate ? We'll all forgive him. Take courage, man. 

(Fnts Miss Hardcastle's ha7id in that of Mar- 
low. They i^etire up stage, she still gefitly 
rallyi?ig hijn.) 

Enter, r. 2 e., Mrs. Hardcastle folhnved by Tony. He is 
dragging his whip by the end of the lash, and leans tip 
against R. wing, at first entrance. 

Mrs. H. {down c). So, so, they're gone off. Let them 
go, I care not. 

Hard. (r. c). Who gone ? 

Mrs. H. My dutiful niece and her gentleman, Mr. Has- 
tings, from town. He who came with our modest visitor 
here. 

Sir C. (l.). Who, my honest George Hastings .'' As wor- 
thy a fellow as lives, and the girl could not have made a 
more prudent choice. 

Enter Hastings and Miss Neville, l. i e. 

Mrs. H. (aside). What, returned so soon ? I begin not 
to like it. 

Hast, {leading Miss Neville to Hardcastle at r. c). 
For my late attempt to fly off with your niece, let my pres- 
ent confusion be my punishment. We are now come back 
to appeal from your justice to your humanity. By her fath- 
er's consent, I first paid her my addresses, and our passions 
were first founded on duty. 

Hard. I'm glad they are come back to reclaim their due. 



SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER. 69 

Come hither, Tony, boy. (Tony obeys sulkiily?) Do you re- 
fuse this lady's hand whom I now offer you ? 

Tony. What signifies my refusing \ You know I can't 
refuse her till I'm of age, father. 

Hard. While I thought concealing your age, boy, was 
likely to conduce to your improvement, I concurred with 
your mother's desire to keep it secret ; but since I find she 
turns it to a wrong use, I must now declare you have been 
of age these three months. 

Tony. What ! Have I come to years of discretion, 
father ? 

Hard. No, I didn't say that ; but you are now your own 
master. 

Tony. Of age ! Am I of age, father } 

Hard. Above three months. 

Tony {crossing to c). Then you'll see the first use I'll 
make of my liberty. {Taking Miss Neville's hand a7;d 
szvinging it back7vard and forward^ chanting.^ W^itness all 
men by these presents, that I, Anthony Lumpkin, Esquire, 
of Blank-place, refuse you, Constantia Neville, spinster, of 
no place at all, for my true and lawful wife. So Constantia 
Neville may go to the devil {throws her hand dowji. Miss 
Neville and Hastings retire tip stage), marry whom she 
pleases, and Tony Lumpkin is his own man again. {To Mrs. 
Hardcastle in a coaxing tone.) Now, mother, I've got one 
word to say. 

Mrs. H. {crossing to l. of hi?n). What is it, my lovey ? 

Tony (/// a loud, coarse voice). Horse-ponds. 

(Mrs. Hardcastle screai?ts, and beats him off, r. 2 e.) 

Exeunt r. 2 e. 

WARN curtain* 

Mar. (r. g.). Joy, my dear George, I give you joy sin- 
cerely. And could I prevail upon my little tyrant here to 
be less arbitrary, I should be the happiest man alive if you 
would return me the favor. 

Hast, {down r. ; to Miss Hardgastle). Come, madam, 
you are now driven to the very last scene of your contri- 
vances. I know you like him, I'm sure he loves you, and 
"11 must and shall have him. 

HaRi, '*'' q,., joining their ha7ids). And I say so too. And, 



70 SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER. 

Mr. Marlow, if she makes as good a wife as she has a daugh- 
ter, I don't beUeve you'll ever repent your bargain. So, boy, 
take her ; and as you have been mistaken in the mistress, 
my wish is, that you may never be mistaken in the wife. 

(Miss Hardcastle advances to the footlights, and 
with an arch smile addresses the audience.) 

Thus having stooped to conquer with success, 
And gained a husband without aid of dress, 
Still as a barmaid I could wish it, too, 
As I have conquered him to conquer — you. 

{Steps back.) 

RING curtain* 

Miss Hardcastle 
Marlow. O Hardcastle 
Miss Neville. O Sir Charles 

O 

Hastings. 



SLOW CURTAIN. 



A NEW DRAMA, 



THE VAGABONDS. 

An Original Dranna. in Ttiree Acts. 
By CHARLES T0WN5END. 

Author of "Kio Grande," "The Spy of Gettysburg," "TheMouxtain 
AYaif," "Fin:mgan's Fortune," etc. 

Eight male and. four female characters. Costumes, modern ; scenery, easy 
interiors and exteriors. A capital drama in Townsend s well-known and popular 
style, full of good comedy scenes and strong climaxes. Bascom, the tramp, is an 
admirable part, full of opportunities, boch humorous and dramatic. Barney 
(Irish), Chub (Yankee"), and Ephraira (Xegro), are capital low comedy characters. 
Jonas Dilworthy (heavy), Leonard (leading), and Major Tomps (character), are 
very strong, and Peggy (soubrette), JNlother Carew (character), Charlotte 
(comedy), and Alice(juvenile), form a well-balanced quartette of ladies. An 
excellent play for amateurs, brisk in action, full of incident, bright iu dialogue, 
and esseutially popular in character. 

Price . . . 25 cents. 



SYNOPSIS. 



ACT I. — In old Virginia. Ireland and Africa. "Guess they hain't so full 
o' fight es they wuz." Chub and Peggy. Barney gets jealous. A "scrimmage" 
on tap. Peggy's orders. A truce. A jolly old maid. The mystery of a life. 
Bascom the vagabond. "I'm a hoodoo! If I look in a pan of milk it turns 
sour!" A vision of the past. Dilworthy the hypocrite. "The best advice for 
a starving man is a good, square meal." The reputed witch. The threat. 
Bascom to the rescue. The recognition. The price of silence. Planning a 
murder. The unseen witness. 

ACT II. — Scene 1. Parlor at Dilworthy's. Father and son. A pair of 
rascals. "Don't you preach morality." The agreement. Chub and Peggy. 
A lovers' quarrel. "Don't want your candy." The story of a crime. The forced 
confession. Scene 2. A road, in the forest. A lost "coon." "I isn't scared." 
Some fun. Mirth and music. Alice and Leonard. Her decision. The promise. 
Scenes. Bascom's home. A conference. Barney learns a secret. A presenti- 
ment of evil. A threatened quarrel. ""Why don't you throw me out? I'm 
used to it." The plotters. Dilworthy's demand. A murderous scoundrel. 
A rifle shot. The accusation. "Before another night the truth shall be 
known ! " 

ACT III. — Library at the Major's. Peggy and Ephraim compare notes. 
"I'd like jes' one slash at dat ole Dilworthy ! " The Major explains. The exam- 
ination. Taking testimony. " Stick to your story." Charlotte makes some 
remarks. "Hurrah for Ireland!" The clodhopper. Barney Avants to fight. 
Ephraim and the "ghost." An miexpected arrival. " Dar's de ghost!" 
Cornered at last. A game of bluff. INlother Carew; A startling denouemenU 
Vindication. Justice asserts herself. Reunited at last. Finale. 



RED OR WHITE ^ 

j\. Deoi^ion Iti « »i le Aoi. 
V WiLUAn MAYNADIER BROWNE. 

. i.ialp and two fpju.i.'- •.•inract'^'rs. Scene, an easy interior: ...,^.,..,. ... 
;iM ,i .ji. This is an admira'<- i.it'rt piece for parl-r or stage, app«?aliug to tiie 
'j>.'so taste. JL8 intereei is f!<-.io\i^ . l>nt it is brightly written, audits story is very 
dramatic, originally'- ■■' ' •' '' T-'ootlight Club, Jamaica Plain, M;t38. 

15 cents. 



LIBRPRY OF CONGRESS 



A NEW C 




The RAQ=PICK 

A DRAMA IN KIVK ACTS 



lllllllllllllllllllllill Illililillll 

014 430 126 2 



By JUSTIN ADAMS. 



Author of "At the Picket-Line," "T'riss," "The Limit of the Law," 
"Down East," etc. 

Six male and four female characters. Scenery, easily arranged ; costumes, 
modern. This piece is a sensational melodrama, a success of two theatrical 
seasons, and is offered on its reputation. The co'mhination of a small cast, 
simple requirements and great effectiveness in performance cannot fail to 
recommend it to amateur dramatic companies. Jo, the waif, can be play( 
either as a girl or a boy, and is a great part with plenty of chance for specialtit ' 
Bims is a good comedy part, and Baxter and Mother Shin capital heavy chara - 
ters. The piece is altogether an excellent combination of strong sensation^ 
interest and abundant humor. 



Price 



25 cents. 



Two unwelcome visitoi 



SYNOPSIS. 

Act I. —The junk-shop. A lucky find among the rags. The chance si| 
ture. Blinded. The junk-shop on fire. Baxter in flames. Josie to the reset 

ActII. — The banker's mansion. Hypocrisy. 
Forgery. Harry accused. Timely arrival of Jo. 

Act III. — Near the Battery. The electrical experiment. An opportu 
accident. " She is your child." 

Act IV. —Near the seminary. The frozen river. A villain's deed. Rescx- 

Act V. — The banker's mansion. Proving an alibi. A cloudburst, 
suicide. The family circle. 



FOR FEflALE CHARACTERS ONLY. 



") 



An Afternoon Rehearsal. 

A COIVIKIDY IN ONK ACT. 



By LIZZIE HARUAR: 



Ty'm.T A »-»' 



Six female charaaters. A very bright and amusmg piece, written originally 
for a Working Girls' Club, and especially adapted f<[r this purpose. 



Price 



Idt cents. 



LIBRARY OF CONGRE 




014 430 126 2 



LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 




014 430 126 2 # 




